ing or grief, he ventured to look and see what had happened.
In the bright moonbeams stood Dilâl, Moti in his arms. He was talking to her in a soft, low tone, and in a language Bobby did not understand. Presently he carried her out of the room, and Bobby heard the murmur of the two voices in the room which had been arranged for the little girl across the hall. And then he fell asleep.
"What was the matter with you last night?" he asked Moti in confidence after breakfast the following day.
"Nothing, only I could n't go to sleep," replied his cousin.
"Was that why you wanted your servant?"
"Yes, I wanted him to tell me a story to put me to sleep."
"And would he do it?"
"Why, yes, of course!" Moti opened her eyes in wonder at Bobby's question.
