As a matter of fact
he had known all that Tooni or Sonny Sahib could tell him about
themselves for three years, but he considered it more dignified to
appear as if he knew nothing.
'This is a child of the mlechas,' said the Maharajah, which was not
a very polite way of saying that he was English.
'Protector of the poor, yes.'
'Account to me for him. How old is he?'
'Seven years, great King.'
'And two months, Tooni-ji. Your Highness, may I sit down?'
'As old as the Folly.'[1]
[1] Native term for the Mutiny.
'He came of the Folly, Hazur. His mother died by the sepoys in
Cawnpore, his father--also,' said Tooni, for she feared to be
blamed for not having found Sonny Sahib's father. As she told the
story once again to the Maharajah, adding many things that Sonny
Sahib had never heard before, he became so much interested that he
stood on one foot for five minutes at a time, and quite forgot to
ask His Highness again if he might sit down.
The Maharajah heard her to the end without a word or a change of
expression. When she had finished, 'My soldiers were not there,'
he said thoughtfully, and with a shade of regret, which was not, I
fear, at the thought of any good they might have done. Then he
seemed to reflect, while Tooni stood before him with her hands
joined together at the finger-tips and her head bowed.
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