was an interval of a quarter of an hour broken only by the swish of the punkah and the scratch of the busy pen. Then through the ferns and palms of the verandah came a deprecating voice:
'Please, sir, I was afraid!'
It brought the chaplain out again. Whether the truth is forthcoming or not, the poor creatures must be helped, as they are physically incapable of helping themselves by working.
'It is very wicked not to tell the truth.'
'Please, your honour, your honour knows that I was afraid!'
'You should tell the truth.'
'So I did, your honour.'
'No, you didn't. You said that you had never been here before. I can't help a man who tells lies.'
'No, sir; but please this time to give some little assistance.'
'There's two annas for you to get some food; and when you can tell the truth you may come again and I will consider your case.'
This love of itinerary begging brings the unemployable round periodically. The Poor Fund was intended partly for them and partly for the resident poor. Some of these were unemployable also, but a pretence was made to give them work where they were able to do it. Coarse sewing was provided for the women, and anything that was possible for the men who had neither strength nor skill. An old man named Richards thought that he had done sufficient to earn an honest rupee when he had written a long letter. A clause begging for an increase to his allowance was usually inserted either at the beginning or the end——'DEAR SIR,—I humbly beg to inform your honour that by this small pittance an East Indian cannot maintain for his whole monthly expense. I beg your
