"Why didst not thou tell that it was perquisite thou wast wanting, for I would have given to thee without argument," sighed the guala, in visible relief. "I am a poor man, and honest, though the ways of my country-men are crooked, and I give in to thy demand that I might be spared false accusation and much humiliation. Take, brother, thy illegal dusturi;[7] how can such as I hope to escape loot, when from the chaukidar to the sweeper all are robbing those who provide the hakim's needs? Only from the hakim himself is there straight dealing!—ai Khodar!"
Within the large tent the silence that reigned boded well for the child who was sleeping peacefully.
Its improved condition was the latest bulletin issued by the ayah who had snatched a moment to enjoy a cheap cigarette in the open.
"What a night!" she said in Hindustani, which she spoke almost as fluently as Tamil. "With both Sahib and Memsahib awake and watching, who could sleep? I had not the conscience to close my eyes. Nor has a morsel passed these lips, for, with the precious one at death's door, food turns to ashes in the mouth."
"Thou art indeed a faithful one, Ayah-jee," said the peon.
"It is my religion, for I am a Christian and have no caste to hold me back from any service that is required of me, Baba-jee. The child is my first thought, and to guard its life, my first care."
"For which thou art paid handsomely, is it not so?"
"That, of course! and money is a great convenience, Baba-jee."
Joyce was still sleeping from the effects of the draught, when Meredith and the doctor breakfasted together. On no account was she to be disturbed. It seemed the doctor took a malicious delight in depriving the husband of the pleasure of carrying his wife the good news concerning the child; and he saw him depart to preside at his court under the trees, without a shade of sympathy for his visible distress.
"Your wife will be all right," he said confidently, "so don't worry, but go ahead with your work. I am capable of looking after both mother and child."