Then came Auntie Rosebody's voice of horror; "Siyah Yamin! At--at thy house, Azîzan! This passes indeed! Go, woman, and venture hither no more!"
"I offer excuse," remarked Râkiya Begum who had risen and come forward in sedate annoyance. Her stiff brocaded petticoat looked almost regal, but her thin angular body still suffered from lack of attire, and her veillessness showed her scanty hair screwed back tightly, ready for subsequent additions. Withal she had a certain dignity of thin, harsh, high features and scraggy uprightness. "That question, Khânzada Gulbadan Kkânum is, as the lawyers have it, sub-judice. To-morrow the King decides."
"Decides!" echoed Auntie Rosebody wrathfully. "And if he does decide!--what then? You can't beat a drum with one hand, and all the other five fingers are in the butter! No! No! Marry her fifty times, Siyah Yamin is Siyah Yamin. You can't hide an elephant under a hencoop. So there! That's my say!"
Râkiya Begum took a pinch of snuff. "And I say nothing. A wise man learns to shave upon strangers."
Meanwhile Mihr-un-nissa, her swift anger passing into amused wonder, stood looking at the ink spots on the scarlet dress, until suddenly her cupid's-bow mouth curved itself into a smile.
"'Twas thy fault," she said nodding her head. "Thou must have been thinking of her, for I saw her clear; but see--that for thy spoilt dress!"
She tore off a gold bangle from her arm and held it out. They were standing close together, almost unobserved, the rest of the company being more interested in crowding about the discussion which still went on regarding Siyah Yamin.
"Why wilt not take it?" continued the little maiden stamping her foot, as Âtma Devi drew back.
"Because I want a bigger boon," she replied hurriedly, seizing her chance.
"A greater boon?" echoed Mihr-un-nissa curiously.