"'I—I—thought thou wast a spirit, come to—' he faltered, and my brother answered:—
"'And why should I be a spirit, my brother? Am I not young and strong?'
"'I dreamed,' quavered Ibrahim.
"'I too have had a dream,' said my brother.
"''Twas but a dream, Mir Jan. I will arise and prepare some—' replied
Ibrahim, affecting ease of manner but poorly, for he had no real nerve.
"'Thou wilt not arise yet, Ibrahim Mahmud,' murmured my brother gently.
"'Why?'
"'Because thine eyes are somewhat wearied and I purpose to wash them with my magic water,' and as he held up the blue bottle with the red label Ibrahim screamed like a girl and flung himself forward at my brother's feet, shrieking and praying for mercy:—
"'No, No!' he howled; 'not that! Mercy, O kingly son of Kings! I will give thee—"
"'Nay, my brother,—what is this?' asked Mir Jan softly, with kind caressing voice. 'What is all this? I do but propose to bathe thine eyes with this same magic water wherewith I bathed mine own, the day before yesterday. Thou didst see me do it—thou didst watch me do it.'