'Give it
to the woman, Moti.' And the child held it out to her.
Tooni looked at the bag, and then at Sonny Sahib, salaamed and
hesitated. It was a provision for the rest of her life, as lives
go in Rajputana.
'Is it not enough!' asked the Maharajah irritably, while the little
prince's face fell.
'Your Highness,' stammered Tooni, 'it is great riches--may roses be
to your mouth! But I have a desire--rather than the money--'
'What is your desire?' cried the little prince. 'Say it. In a
breath my father will allow it. I want the gold-faced one to come
and play.'
The Maharajah nodded, and this time Tooni lay down at the feet of
the little prince.
'It is,' said she, 'that--I am a widow and old--that I also may
live in the farthest corner within the courtyard walls, with the
boy.'
The Maharajah slipped the bag quickly into the pocket of his blue
and yellow coat.
'It is a strange preference,' he said, 'but the Mussulmans have no
minds. It may be.'
Tooni kissed his feet, and Sonny Sahib nodded approval at him.
Somehow, Sonny Sahib never could be taught good Rajput manners.
'The boy is well grown,' said the Maharajah, turning upon his heel.
'What is his name?'
'Protector of the poor,' answered Tooni, quivering with delight,
'his name is Sonny Sahib.
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