Angel by B.M. Croker

THE monsoon had broken at last, and the rain descended and the floods came in drenching sheets. Red plains sprang to life, and became a delicate green, frogs croaked hilariously, snakes were washed out of their holes, sickly vegetation revived as if touched by some magician's wand, and all the oleanders were in flower.

During the long, wet days, when nullahs were racing torrents and the avenue a running stream-a joy to the ducks-Angel was constantly to be found at the big bungalow, playing the _rôle_ of _enfant de la maison_. She was permitted to wander through the empty rooms, and to amuse herself to her heart's content. Her guardian was a good deal from home; since the first burst of the rains had sorely tried the piers of the new bridge over the Ram Gunga, every morning at an early hour he wrapped himself in a mackintosh and leggings, mounted his horse, and splashed away. Even in the afternoons Shafto and Angel frequently had the premises to themselves; the former took but scant notice of his companion, for ever since the "Sally episode" she had been unpardoned and in his black books.