The little boy joined his hands, and touching his forehead bowed his body, as he had seen men in India bow when they came before his father to ask for something.
"Sahib," he said earnestly, "could you write a letter for one anna?"
"Hullo, shrimp!" said the man. "Have you sprung right out of the Shiny into here?"
"I know it's very little monies," Ronnie continued apologetically, "very little monies, but I do want that letter wrote, so badly. I've truly got one anna; here it is."
The man held out his hand, and Ronnie laid the penny on his palm.
The man closed his hand upon it.
"Now," he said, "what shall I write?"
He took a fresh sheet of paper and looked at Ronnie, and the little boy saw that the eyes behind the round glasses were bright and kind.
"Dear Uncle Gerald," Ronnie began. "Please come. I do not like it here. I want to come back to you. It is forlorn here, not fairylands——"
"Eh, what's that?" asked the man. "You dictate very fast. 'Not fairylands'? Yes?"