'Stop,' said the Maharajah. 'I will do justice in this matter. I desire the boy, but I have brought his price. Where is it, Moti-ji?'
The little Maharajah laughed with delight, and drew from behind him a jingling bag.
'It is one hundred and fifty rupees,' said the Maharajah. 'Give it to the woman, Moti.' And the child held it out to her.
Tooni looked at the bag, and then at Sonny Sahib, salaamed and hesitated. It was a provision for the rest of her life, as lives go in Rajputana.
'Is it not enough!' asked the Maharajah irritably, while the little prince's face fell.
'Your Highness,' stammered Tooni, 'it is great riches—may roses be to your mouth! But I have a desire—rather than the money—'
'What is your desire?' cried the little prince. 'Say it. In a breath my father will allow it. I want the gold-faced one to come and play.'
The Maharajah nodded, and this time Tooni lay down at the feet of the little prince.
'It is,' said she, 'that—I am a widow and old—that I also may live in the farthest corner within the courtyard walls, with the boy.'
The Maharajah slipped the bag quickly into the pocket of his blue and yellow coat.