"Come in here with me," he said, leading the way to his private room, behind the shop.
"Now, what is it?" he asked, as he closed the door behind them.
"It was believed, sahib, that Major Lindsay's infant boy was killed, at that time, like all others in the camp. It was not so. I saved him. It is about him that I want to speak to you."
The Parsee thought for a moment.
"Yes, there was a child. Its body was not found, and was supposed to have been eaten by the jackals. Is it alive still?"
"Yes, sahib, I have brought him up as my own. His skin has been always stained; and none but my brother--with whom I live--his wife, and one other, know that he is English. I love him as my own child. I have taught him English, as I speak it; but I want him, in time, to be an English sahib, and for that he must learn proper English."
"But why have you not brought him down here?" the Parsee said.
"Who would have looked after him, and cared for him, sahib, as I, his nurse, have done? Who could have taken him? What would have become of him? I am a poor woman, and do not know how these things would be. I said to myself:
"'It will be better that he should live with me, till he is old enough to go down as a young man, and say to the Governor:
"'"I am the son of Major Lindsay. I can talk Mahratti like a native. I can ride and use my sword. I can speak English well. I can be useful."