“Yes, my son. While you were feasting your eyes on the Ranee’s jewels, and kissing her hand before feasting in a more worldly way with the Rajah, I was slaving like a nigger, and I want to sleep.”
“Yes, it does seem too bad to be going out like this and leaving you at work. I thought about you ever so many times.”
“Did you?” said Wyatt, smiling and looking less grim.
“I did, and wished you were there.”
“That’s right, old fellow. There, good-night; I want a long snooze.”
“Good-night,” said Dick in an injured tone. “You always do want to go to sleep when I want to talk.”
“Do I?” said Wyatt, laughing. “Well, perhaps so. A sleep will do you good, though.”
He went to his own room, and Dick undressed and was soon lying thinking.
“Phew! how hot it is!” he said to himself. “I’d give anything for a breath of fresh air. The place is like an oven.”
But the understanding was that the windows were to be kept shut, and he had no wish for such another encounter as he had gone through before; so he lay still, going over the incidents of the evening, thinking of the Ranee and the wonderful jewels she wore, and of how young she looked to be the Rajah’s mother.