“Oh, but you might not have understood the bibis; or the bibis might not have understood you; or—but here comes Kripá Dé himself with Harold. Let’s have the real truth from his lips.—Kripá Dé,” he continued, addressing the convert, “are you and Premi the children of one mother?” “No,” replied the youth. “Premi was only my little playmate when she was a child.” The negative reply made Alicia’s heart beat fast with excitement. “Oh, question him more closely!” she exclaimed, feeling more distressed than she had ever done before at her knowledge of Urdu being so imperfect. Mr. Hartley’s interest was thoroughly aroused. “Was Premi always in the fort?” he inquired of Kripá Dé; “or can you remember her first arrival?” “I remember Premi being brought in one night,” said Kripá Dé; he spoke slowly, like one trying to recall impressions of the distant past. “She was then quite a little girl, some years younger than myself. I recollect that the bibis crowded around her, and that Darobti jested me about the child’s skin being as white as my own.” “She said that you were like brother and sister?” suggested Robin. Kripá Dé shook his head and looked embarrassed; which made the questioner shrewdly guess that Darobti had joked the boy on the coming of a little white bride for a little white bridegroom. Marriage, even of infants, forms a large subject of interest in the Indian zenana. Harold, who had been briefly informed by Alicia of what had occurred, now took the place of catechiser. “How many years have elapsed since the child was brought to Talwandi?” he asked. “Who knows?” was the reply. Native children keep little count of time. “Have you no sort of idea? Think again.” “I was just tall enough then to see over the wall. It seems a great many years ago.” “Perhaps ten or twelve?” suggested Robin. “You know that you are now eighteen. Have you no sort of guess how old you were then?” “Perhaps seven or eight,” replied Kripá Dé. Harold translated each question and answer to his eager young wife. “Did those who brought the child not explain how she came to be in their hands?” inquired Mr. Hartley. “I cannot recollect; I never heard. It has sometimes been said in the zenana that Premi was brought from Kabul; that she is white as being the child of Pathans. I never considered the matter at all.” “Ask how the little one was dressed when she arrived,” said Alicia eagerly. Kripá raised his hand to his brow and reflected. “I think that the child had a shawl wrapped round her, and—yes—yes—one white thing like what the English wear on their feet!” cried Kripá Dé. “I remember that; for the bibis laughed, and fitted it on their hands. We had never seen such a thing before. But why do you question me thus?” the young Brahmin suddenly asked. “Because we suspect it to be possible that Premi is neither Kashmiri nor Pathan,” said Harold, “but the child of English parents.”