to be bothered about his religion and asked what he does n't do things for!"
Bobby sat still for a minute, pondering this statement. Then he had recourse to his usual question—"Why?"
"Oh, how tiresome it is always to say why!" said Moti impatiently. "My Mamma says you talk too much, and really, you know, you do, Bobby!"
Bobby was offended. He walked over to the place where the puppies were kept, and took them out of their box, and began to play with them, turning his back to Moti, who, on her part, threw herself back on the clean yellow straw of the empty stall where she sat with the cats, and began to talk Hindustani to her favorite white kitten. She talked in the low, crooning tone Dilâl used to her when she could not go to sleep, lifting the kitten over her head, the half-dozen silver bangles on her little arms tinkling as she moved.
Bobby resented having any one talk be-
