no longer wanted, and at fifty-five year of age, if I were to marry again, I'd be a nice old fool! Anyway, my savings is for the boys."
"That's very kind of. you, Mrs. Dixon."
"Ye see, I’m fond of them, especially Pedro; there's a real gentleman for ye, and so loving; if you was to put your eyes on sticks, that fellow could not tell a lie! I'm wishful, I had some eddication for the children's sakes; I can talk Tamil and Telagu, but I only went to the regimental school, and was never to say smart. Sewing and housekeeping, and keeping order and decency, is just all I’m good for."
"I think it's pretty well," observed her companion.
"I taught Mota her reading, writing and sewing, but latterly we had a young woman from Madras three days a week, with a high character as governess; she was just a streel of a young thing, and found the child mighty wild, and could make no hand of her, unless I sat with them at the lessons. Mota is terribly imparious for a little girl of nine, and that has never seen no company. Now and then, we do go in to Madras for shopping, and to the band, and every couple of Sundays, we make out church at Monaghary, but the Major he won't have no visitors whatever; not even children, much less the parson. Faix, it's a queer sort of life, is not it?" and she looked across at her companion for confirmation; but he suffered the pause to lapse without comment. "Well," she added—drawing a long sigh, "every cripple has his own way of walking!—and it's not for the likes of me, to interfere."
Mallender nodded, then he said: "Of course not—it's a—personal affair."
"'Tis so," she agreed, "and the Major made a bargain wid me the day I engaged, and a bargain is a bargain! and so though it goes to me heart, I keep a shut door, and a closed mouth. Anyhow Society don't trouble Panjeverram; it's the leavings of everywhere; just an overgrown, forgotten old place, and cram full of snakes, and ghosts."
