The trouble is that
she clings so to her own cherished ideas of caste, and of worship.
Personally the Hindostanee is a good fellow--gentle, charitable, and a
loyal friend--but he is so priest-ridden, and so filled with
superstitions and notions, that it is almost impossible to get any
sense, far less any Christianity, into his pate. I have a large
respect for those who stay here year by year, braving a climate that is
enough to take all the life out of the strongest, and laboring with
this prejudiced people, just because it is their duty. Folks oughtn't
to begrudge them a few pennies, saved from candy or ribbons, my dear."
"No," said Faith, leaning back and closing her eyes a moment. "What a
glare it is!" she murmured wearily. "The sun is so hot, and the light
so white and blinding; then the houses are so dreadfully blue and pink,
and the crows and people so black, and the dogs so greedy, and
everything so noisy, it makes my head ache!"
"It _is_ wearing, daughter, and one can't stand too much of it at
once." He gave another order, and they presently came into a wider
street, that was almost like a viaduct for shelter, as awnings were
stretched above it the whole length. There was scarcely any life here,
and the high stone walls of wealthy homes shut them in, with only an
occasional balcony, or latticed window, to break the monotony of their
blank surfaces.
"Here live the native families of the highest caste," explained the
captain, "and inside are beautiful courts, with flowers and fountains,
where they lounge and live, as the lower classes do in the streets.
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