'I don't care what she says,' retorted Lesley quickly. 'She must be made to believe it. Tell her--tell her about the râm-rucki, and all that. She will understand then.'
'She may,' assented Jack dubiously; 'but it is a little--ahem--mixed up----isn't it?'
A suspicion that the situation was beginning to amuse him made her say--
'Not at all! Of course she will understand. She gave you a râm-rucki, and why--why shouldn't I?'
'No reason at all. I'm awfully glad you did.'
He looked it, and Lesley felt once more that absurd desire to smile and feel happy as she sat listening, watching the withered old face, waiting for the answer.
It was not much when it came. It was only a pursing up of the lips that had never known a lover's kiss, a gentle raillery in the kind tear-dimmed eyes, and a brisk flirt of the fingers that had worn themselves to the bone to bring happiness to others.
'Trra!' said Auntie Khôjee, with supreme unconcern for explanations. 'Trra!'
'I'm afraid it is no go, Miss Drummond,' said Jack decorously. 'I believe it--it would save trouble if we--for the time only, of course----'
Lesley blushed a fine blush. 'I daresay you are right,' she assented, supremely superior; 'it doesn't really matter--for the time,' she added significantly.