I gave it 'em."
"And so you were very happy?" His mother had stolen up behind us.
"You liked your cotton, dear?" She tidied the lump away.
"By Jove, I was happy!" Adam yawned. "Now if any one," he looked
at the Infant, "cares to put a little money into the scheme,
it'll be the making of my District. I can't give you figures,
sir, but I assure--"
"You'll take your arsenic, and Imam Din'll take you up to bed,
and I'll come and tuck you in."
Agnes leaned forward, her rounded elbows on his shoulders, hands
joined across his dark hair, and "Isn't he a darling?" she said
to us, with just the same heart-rending lift to the left eyebrow
and the same break of her voice as sent Strickland mad among the
horses in the year '84. We were quiet when they were gone. We
waited till Imam Din returned to us from above and coughed at the
door, as only dark-hearted Asia can.
"Now," said Strickland, "tell us what truly befell, son of my
servant."
"All befell as our Sahib has said. Only--only there was an
arrangement--a little arrangement on account of his cotton-play.
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