Tessa shivered a little. "Scooter killed a rat the other day, and it squealed dreadfully. I don't think he ought to do things like that, but of course he doesn't know any better."
"He looks as if he knows a lot," said Bernard.
"Yes, I wish he would learn to talk. He's awful clever. Do you think we could ever teach him?" asked Tessa.
Bernard shook his head. "No. It would take a magician to do that. We are not clever enough, either of us. Peter now—"
"Oh, is Peter a magician?" said Tessa, with shining eyes. "Peter, dear Peter," turning to him ecstatically as he appeared with a box in which to imprison her darling, "do you think you could possibly teach my little Scooter to talk?"
Peter smiled all over his bronze countenance. "Missy sahib, only the Holy Ones can do that," he said.
Tessa's face fell. "That's as bad as telling you to pray for anything, isn't it?" she said to Bernard. "And my prayers never come true. Do yours?"
"They always get answered," said Bernard, "some time or other."
"Oh, do they?" Tessa regarded him with interest. "Does God come and talk to you then?" she said.
He smiled a little. "He speaks to all who wait to hear, my princess," he said.