70. “Is thine, most dear. Who should know better than I?”
71. “’Tis such a feeble mouth. Oh, so small! And yet it holds my heart between its lips. Give him to me now. He has been too long away.”
72. “Nay, let him lie; he has not yet begun to cry.”
73. “When he cries thou wilt give him back—eh? What a man of mankind thou art! If he cried he were only the dearer to me. But, my life, what little name shall we give him?”
74. The small body lay close to Holden’s heart. It was utterly helpless and very soft. He scarcely dared to breathe for fear of crushing it. The caged green parrot that is regarded as a sort of guardian spirit in most native households moved on its perch and fluttered a drowsy wing.
75. “There is the answer,” said Holden. “Mian Mittu has spoken. He shall be the parrot. When he is ready he will talk mightily and run about. Mian Mittu is the parrot in thy—in the Mussulman tongue, is it not?”
76. “Why put me so far off?” said Ameera fretfully. “Let it be like unto some English name—but not wholly. For he is mine.”
77. “Then call him Tota, for that is likest English.”
78. “Ay, Tota, and that is still the parrot. Forgive me, my lord, for a minute ago, but in truth he is too little to wear all the weight of Mian Mittu for name. He shall be Tota—our Tota to us. Hearest thou, O small one? Littlest, thou art Tota.” She touched the child’s cheek, and he waking, wailed, and it was necessary to return him to his mother, who soothed him with the wonderful rhyme of “Aré koko, Jaré koko!” which says:
“Oh, crow! Go crow! Baby’s sleeping sound,
And the wild plums grow in the jungle, only a penny a pound,
Only a penny a pound, baba, only a penny a pound.”