"Come and get some brandy, and you shall come back for the camphor." My father led him away, but he did not come back.

My father took him to his quarters, and sent the surgeon to him; and my mother took me on her knee, and sat silent for a long time, with the unfinished camphor-bag beside her.
The next day I went to the end of our compound with Ayah, to see the Colonel's funeral pass.

The procession seemed endless.

The horse he had ridden two days before by my mother's side tossed its head fretfully, as the "Dead March" wailed, and the slow tramp of feet poured endlessly on.

My mother was looking out from the verandah.