'Tooni,' he said presently, 'without doubt I must sit down,' and
down he sat plumply, with his back against the wall, and his two
small legs, in their very best striped cotton trousers, stretched
out in front of him.
As a matter of fact the Maharajah was asleep, and had forgotten all
about Sonny Sahib in the hall of audience. It was Moti[1] who
reminded him, whispering in his ear until he awoke. Moti was the
little Maharajah, and that was his pet name. Moti was privileged
to remind his father of things.
[1] A pearl.
So Moti and the Maharajah went down to the audience hall together,
and there they found Sonny Sahib asleep too, which was not
wonderful, considering that the Maharajah had kept him waiting two
hours and a quarter. Perhaps this occurred to His Highness, and
prevented him from being angry. At all events, as Sonny Sahib
scrambled to his feet in response to a terrified tug from Tooni, he
did not look very angry.
Sonny Sahib saw a little lean old man, with soft sunken black eyes,
and a face like a withered potato. He wore a crimson velvet
smoking-cap upon his head, and was buttoned up to the chin in a
long tight coat of blue and yellow brocade. Above the collar and
below the sleeves of the coat showed the neck and cuffs of an
English linen shirt, which were crumpled and not particularly
clean.
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