The front veranda faced due east, raised above the garden by an eight-foot wall, an ideal place for sleep because of the unfailing morning breeze.  The beds were set there side by side each evening, and Mrs. Blaine—­ a full ten years younger than her husband—­formed a habit of rising in the dark and standing in her night-dress, with bare feet on the utmost edge of the top stone step, to watch for the miracle of morning.  She was fabulously pretty like that, with her hair blowing and her young figure outlined through the linen; and she was sometimes unobserved.

The garden wall, a hundred feet beyond, was of rock, two-and-a-half men high, as they measure the unleapable in that distrustful land; but the Blaines, hailing from a country where a neighbor’s dog and chickens have the run of twenty lawns, seldom took the trouble to lock the little, arched, iron-studded door through which the former owner had come and gone unobserved.  The use of an open door is hardly trespass under the law of any land; and dawn is an excellent time for the impecunious who take thought of the lily how it grows in order to outdo Solomon.

When a house changes hands in Rajputana there pass with it, as well as the rats and cobras and the mongoose, those beggars who were wont to plague the former owner.  That is a custom so based on ancient logic that the English, who appreciate conservatism, have not even tried to alter it.

So when a cracked voice broke the early stillness out of shadow where the garden wall shut off the nearer view, Theresa Blaine paid small attention to it.

“Memsahib!  Protectress of the poor!”

She continued watching the mystery of coming light.  The ancient city’s domed and pointed roofs already glistened with pale gold, and a pearly mist wreathed the crowded quarter of the merchants.  Beyond that the river, not more than fifty yards wide, flowed like molten sapphire between unseen banks.  As the pale stars died, thin rays of liquid silver touched the surface of a lake to westward, seen through a rift between purple hills.  The green of irrigation beyond the river to eastward shone like square-cut emeralds, and southward the desert took to itself all imaginable hues at once.

“Colorado!” she said then.  “And Arizona!  And Southern California!  And something added that I can’t just place!”

“Sin’s added by the scow-load!” growled her husband from the farther bed.  “Come back, Tess, and put some clothes on!”

She turned her head to smile, but did not move away.  Hearing the man’s voice, the owners of other voices piped up at once from the shadow, all together, croaking out of tune: 

“Bhig mangi shahebi!  Bhig mangi shahebi!” (Alms!  Alms!)

“I can see wild swans,” said Theresa.  “Come and look—­five—­six—­seven of them, flying northward, oh, ever so high up!”

“Put some clothes on, Tess!”

“I’m plenty warm.”