42 A Sportswoman in India 



spend much over a garden which they may have to 

 leave at any time. India is never " home " : there 

 is no " home "to be proud of there, and to beautify. 

 In the General's garden there were hedges and bowers 

 of roses, and hundreds of pots of violets, all well 

 watered by an energetic mail ; but even they were 

 not like English ones, for they had no smell. 



India has been summed up as a " land in which 

 everything smells except its flowers." In the early 

 morning one misses so the earthy smell, the exquisite, 

 moist, fresh scent of daybreak. 



While we were at Mian Mir I drove one day into 

 Lahore with Miss , who was one of the house- 

 party, our principal object being to get some money 



out of the bank. On our return Miss locked 



the notes into her dressing-bag, meaning to settle 

 up some accounts the following day. What followed 

 should show every one the impossibility of trusting 

 native servants, unless they have been proved worthy. 



Miss went upstairs at night as usual, undressed, 



and was soon in bed, with Terry, her little terrier, 

 curled up on a rug on the floor near her. Suddenly 

 she heard a slight movement behind the curtain, and 

 then another ! Surely it could not be fancy ? yet 

 Terry never stirred. She sat up in bed why, the 

 curtains had moved and there was a space between, 

 through which the dim light shone ; and there 

 was something else what was it ? A face surely 

 not not a human face, with glaring eyes ? Was 

 she dreaming ? She seized her match-box and hastily 



