said Papa pulling his moustache. "The letters in themselves are excellent, and the terms are moderate enough."
"The worst of it is that the children will grow up away from me," thought Mamma; but she did not say it aloud.
"We are only one case among hundreds," said Papa, bitterly. "You shall go Home again in five years, dear."
"Punch will be ten then—and Judy eight. Oh how long and long and long the time will be! And we have to leave them among strangers."
"Punch is a cheery little chap. He's sure to make friends wherever he goes."
"And who could help loving my Ju?"
They were standing over the cots in the nursery late at night, and I think that Mamma was crying softly. After Papa had gone away, she knelt down by the side of Judy's cot. The ayah saw her and put up a prayer that the memsahib might never find the love of her children taken away from her and given to a stranger.
Mamma's own prayer was a slightly illogical one. Summarised it ran:—"Let strangers love my children and be as good to them as I should be, but let me preserve their love and their confidence for ever and ever. Amen." Punch scratched himself in his sleep, and Judy moaned a little. That seems to be the only answer to the prayer: and, next day, they all went down to the sea, and there was a scene at the Apollo Bunder when Punch discovered that Meeta could not come too, and Judy learned that the ayah must be left behind. But Punch found a thousand fascinating things in the rope, block and steam-pipe line on the big P. and O. Steamer, long before Meeta and the ayah had dried their tears.
"Come back, Punch-baba," said the ayah.
"Come back," said Meeta, "and be a Burra Sahib."
"Yes," said Punch, lifted up in his father's arms to wave good-bye. "Yes, I will come back and I will be a Burra Sahib Bahadur!"
