“Why?” asked the three children together.
“Well, my dears, it’s the old, old story,” said Mr. Atom. “He fell in love, some years ago, with the White Elephant of Amrapure. For long years he has whispered love songs round the folds of her unheeding ears. At length, driven to despair, he asked a friendly Cyclone if he would kindly blow the White Elephant from Amrapure to the Taj Mahal, and there shut her up, a prisoner, until she consented to wed him. Which the friendly Cyclone did, blowing the little elephant along, willy-nilly, past Benares and Allahabad, till they reached Agra. And it so happened——”
“’Es, but who is Willie Nilly?” asked Kiddiwee.
“Don’t interrupt! That’s only an expression,” corrected Tibbs.
“And it so happened,” continued Mr. Atom, “that a great Rajah found the White Elephant there. Thinking it was a gift from some other Prince, he called his retainers, and had the White Elephant removed to his palace, near by.”
“This sounds exactly like an Arabian Nights story,” interrupted Coppertop.
“Perhaps it does, my dear. But it’s perfectly true, I assure you,” said Mr. Atom.
“Of course it is!” cried Tibbs. “Don’t stop him.”
“Now, when the East Wind heard of this, he flew into a great rage. He howled and screamed round the Rajah’s Palace, and finding that this had but little effect, he rustled, he murmured, he implored. But no! The Rajah refused to part with the White Elephant, and shut all his casements to the pleading voice of the East Wind.”
“Is that all?” exclaimed Miss Smiler, when Mr. Atom ceased speaking. “Because,” she continued, “I think I can help that East Wind in his little affair.”