"Give them to him," suggested Mr. Desborough, who was wondering how he could return the Rana's present, having nothing with him but just the necessary things his family required.
The transfer was made; the mystery of the buttons made easy, too, by the addition of a tiny button-hook. The little fellow was in ecstasies. Not so Horace, who set up a clamour to have his mother's gloves back, which amused them all.
Mr. Desborough was talking to the elder, whose name was Rattam, about his lessons. He was fond of reading, had made some way in English and Persian, and was much gratified with the gift of an English book on botany, which Mr. Desborough had brought with him, hoping to interest his wife in the lovely plants and flowers she was sure to find among the hills. It was very doubtful whether the new owner could possibly understand it, but he liked to examine the plates.
Mr. Desborough thought they were getting on, when Horace renewed his clamour, pointing at Aglar, and declaring, "He is nobody but a native. He shan't have my mamma's gloves. He shan't!"
Mrs. Desborough grew pink with annoyance, for she knew their young visitors would be highly offended, if they really understood English well enough to know what the child was saying. In vain his father frowned. He would not be quieted. Kathleen slipped round and filled his mouth with her peppermint, to stop his tongue.
"We are all spoiling him as fast as we can," muttered her father, with a bitter sigh, as he sent her across to Rattam, who regarded Horace with pure amazement. No Hindu child is ever permitted to be rough or rude. Kathleen shyly offered Rattam her jar, trying to make up for Racy's naughtiness by behaving as prettily as she could. Rattam examined her peppermints curiously, and then drew back, afraid to touch one, for it might be degrading to himself.
He dare not taste one, he said, for fear of losing caste by eating anything which might be improper for a Brahmin.
This horror of losing caste—that is, of forfeiting his position as a Brahmin, one of the highest class of Hindus, to whom all the others look up with reverence—is the bugbear of a Hindu gentleman's life, and Rattam was fully impressed with its importance.
Yet he was gratified; and although no persuasion could induce him to touch the peppermint, he expressed his thanks with the air of a prince, adding, "You must permit me to send you a bird of my own training, to be my vakeel" ("Ambassador," interpreted the tutor), "and remind you of me," Rattam went on; "and, I assure you, he is a very amusing fellow."
He spoke so carefully and so correctly, it made Kathleen think he had learned his English sentences ready before he came. She wished she could ask her ayah how she ought to answer him in Indi; but that was out of the question. If he understood not her reply, he knew by her shy little smile she was pleased.