His Highness looked disconcerted for a moment. As a matter of fact he had known all that Tooni or Sonny Sahib could tell him about themselves for three years, but he considered it more dignified to appear as if he knew nothing.
'This is a child of the mlechas,' said the Maharajah, which was not a very polite way of saying that he was English.
'Protector of the poor, yes.'
'Account to me for him. How old is he?'
'Seven years, great King.'
'And two months, Tooni-ji. Your Highness, may I sit down?'
'As old as the Folly.'[5]
[5] Native term for the Mutiny.
'He came of the Folly, Hazur. His mother died by the sepoys in Cawnpore, his father—also,' said Tooni, for she feared to be blamed for not having found Sonny Sahib's father. As she told the story once again to the Maharajah, adding many things that Sonny Sahib had never heard before, he became so much interested that he stood on one foot for five minutes at a time, and quite forgot to ask His Highness again if he might sit down.
The Maharajah heard her to the end without a word or a change of expression. When she had finished, 'My soldiers were not there,' he said thoughtfully, and with a shade of regret, which was not, I fear, at the thought of any good they might have done. Then he seemed to reflect, while Tooni stood before him with her hands joined together at the finger-tips and her head bowed.