'Moti-ji,' said Sunni, laying his arm around the little prince's neck as they rode together, 'do you love me?'
Moti caught Sunni's hand as it dropped over his shoulder. 'You know that in my heart there is only my father's face and yours, Sahib's son,' he said.
'Will you do one thing, then, for love of me?' asked Sunni eagerly. 'Will you ask of the Maharajah, your father, that I also may learn English from the stranger?'
'No,' said Moti mischievously, 'because it is already spoken, Sunni-ji. I said that I would not learn unless you also were compelled to learn, so that the time should not be lost between us. Now let us gallop very fast past the jail, lest the Englishman should think we wish to see him. He is to be brought to me to-morrow at sundown.'
The Englishman at that moment was unpacking his books and his bottles, and thinking about how he could best begin the work he had come to Lalpore to do. He was a medical missionary, and as they had every variety of disease in Lalpore, and the population was entirely heathen, we may think it likely that he had too much on his mind to run to the window to see such very young royalty ride by.
'Sunni-ji,' said Moti that afternoon in the garden, 'I am very tired of talking of this Englishman.'
'I could talk of him for nine moons,' said Sunni; and then something occurred which changed the subject as completely as even the little prince could desire. This was a garden for the pleasure of the ladies of the court; they never came out in it, but their apartments looked down upon it, and a very high wall screened it from the rest of the world. The Maharajah and Moti and Sunni were the only people who might ever walk there. As the boys turned at the end of a path directly under the gratings, they heard a soft voice say 'Moti!'
'That is Matiya,' said the little prince. 'I do not like Matiya. What is it, Matiya?'
'It is not Matiya,' said the voice quickly, 'it is Tarra. Here is a gift from the heart of Tarra, little parrot, a gift for you, and a gift for the Sahib's son; also a sweet cake, but the cake is for Moti.'
'I am sure it was Matiya,' said Moti, running to pick the packet out of the rose-bush it had fallen into; 'but Matiya was never kind before.'