"Yes, Daddy," I answered.
"You will never think badly of me whatever you hear?"
Now this was such a queer speech that I could not in the least understand it, but I answered at once, in the queer sort of metaphor that a child might use:
"I would not think badly of you, father, if the world rocked."
He kissed me two or three times after I said this, and so far recovered his usual self that he allowed me to sit on his knee and play with his watch chain. I was greatly taken with a little charm he wore, and when I said I liked it he told me that it had once belonged to a great idol in one of the most marvellous temples in the historic town of Delhi. He said it was supposed to be a charm and to bring luck, and then he detached it from his chain and slipped it on to a narrow gold chain which I wore round my neck. He told me to keep it always, for it was certain to bring luck. I said:
"What's luck?"
He answered: "Fair gales and a prosperous sail."
I nodded my head satisfactorily at that, and said:
"Then I will wear it, and you and me, Daddy"—I went wrong again with my grammar—"will have fair gales and a prosperous sail when we are returning to India."
He thrust his head out of the carriage window when I said this, and when he put it back again I noticed that for some reason his face was as red as ever.