Sophy exerted her utmost eloquence to induce her aunt to follow the fashion and spend, at least, two months in the hills, and her efforts were warmly supported by Mr. Krauss, but his wife made no reply—­she merely beamed and shook her head.  Eloquence and persuasion were wasted.  He and Sophy might just as well have appealed to the alabaster Buddha in the drawing-room.  Flora Krauss never argued—­possibly this was one phase of her indolent nature.  She merely assumed an immovable, negative attitude and met every suggestion with a smile and a shake of the head.

Sophy had no desire to leave Rangoon; she protested that she had only been out seven months and really required no change; but her appeal was silenced by the voice of authority.

“My dear child,” said her aunt, “you’ve no idea what you would be like in three months’ time.  I am hardened and acclimatised, but your nice complexion would soon take leave, never to return.  You would be covered with hideous spots and you would probably get fever.  Mrs. Gregory is most anxious for your company and I am equally anxious for your departure.  You will have a very good time up at May Myo and go you must!”

Sophy had no alternative and was compelled to obey orders.

“I shall miss you most dreadfully, my dear,” said her aunt; “it is so nice to have you flitting about the house, not to speak of your vivacious company and delicious music.  Your music is really wonderful; it seems to exorcise an evil spirit that gives me no peace.”

“Oh, Aunt Flora,” expostulated the girl, “how can you say such things?  Surely you don’t believe in evil spirits?”

“But, my dear child, how can I help it when I live in a country where millions of people worship and fear them?”

“Those are only ignorant natives; you would not allow their superstitions to affect you.”

“Well, at any rate, your playing uplifts and soothes me; I can’t imagine how you inherited this gift; your mother was not particularly musical, nor was I. I recollect my misery as a girl in struggling through ‘The Harmonious Blacksmith,’ and I never remember hearing that we had any musical genius in the family.  Of course, the natives here would find an easy answer and say that you had been a great musician in another incarnation.”

On hearing this solemn explanation Sophy burst into peals of laughter, at which rejoinder Mrs. Krauss looked both shocked and hurt and, after an awkward silence, the subject dropped.

And so, in spite of Sophy’s efforts to remain in Rangoon, she was figuratively driven into the arms of Mrs. Gregory.  The Maitlands and the Pomeroys had also invited her to May Myo, but Mrs. Gregory overbore all competition and insisted that she must have Sophy as a companion to share her bungalow and accompany her songs, and departed in triumph, carrying the girl with her.

Mrs. Krauss attended her niece to the railway station, loaded her with books and fruit and saw her off with urgent and affectionate injunctions and many kisses.  During the last few months Mrs. Krauss appeared to have become a transformed person; she went about continually in her smart new car, was seen at dances, little dinners and the theatre, and had recovered a faint shadow of her former good looks and something of her old animation.