"She said—I am Prithvi Raj."
"She said true." Her hand caressed his hair. "Now you can run down and tell you are forgiven."
"You too, Mummy?"
"In a little time. Not just now. But see——" Her brows flew up. "I was coming to mend your poor bruises!"
"I haven't got any bruises."
The engaging touch of swagger delighted her. A man to-day—in very deed. Her gaze dwelt upon him. It was as if she looked through the eyes of her husband into the heart of her son.
Gravely she entered into his mood.
"That is good. Then we will just make you tidy—and one littlest dab for this not-bruise on your cheek."
So much he graciously permitted: then he ran off to receive the ovation awaiting him from Tara and Chris.