At the suggestion of clothes I took a look at myself; that is, as much of me as there was in sight. I knew that my growth had lengthened me a bit, but I had not realized that it had shortened and narrowed my clothes at the same time. The thought that like a flash of light, very warm too, rushed through me, that the boundaries of my coat did not sympathize with each other by a number of inches, that the bottoms of my trousers had sworn enmity to my feet, and were climbing in scorn toward my knees, and what was left of these lower encasements were clinging to my legs as tightly as bark to a growing tree. I could have hid behind the bearer, or the dog, or anything. All this reflection took place quicker than light can run, and was ended by the darzi saying, “Huzoor, what kind of clothes?” The hukm was that he was to get the best in the bazar, with a free hand and a free purse, and to make everything “Europe” fashion. The whole thing was done in a jiffy. I think that is the word; it will do as well as any. Then the sahib said, “We will go into the drawing room.” We, that is, I and the sahib, or the sahib and I,—we; how strange it sounded! He didn’t hukm me at all. He asked me to take a chair. Now, I had never sat upon one of them in my life. My legs! what could I do with them? I felt that I must tuck them under me out of the way, but the sahib did not do that with his legs, so I let mine hang. What else? He talked to me so kindly that I soon felt easier; but it was a long time before I could get rid of the awe I had for the barra magistrate sahib. He asked some questions in his kindly way, to which I answered and used the word “sahib.” At this he said, “You must not say sahib any more to me. Call me Mr. Percy, for I am your friend; I will be as a father to you if you will be a good boy.” I don’t know what I said, but I think I told him I would try ever so hard. The thought flashed over me how hard I had tried to grow to please him, and as I had succeeded in that I would do my best in everything he suggested. Soon we went to breakfast. Mr. Percy sat at one end of the table and I was placed at the other, a table large enough for a dozen people. How strange it was! The shining white cloth, and the great variety of food, dish after dish, when I had never before had more than one dish, and not always enough of that. Then my knife and fork and spoon, when I had never touched such things before! what could I do with them? I watched Mr. Percy closely. He was my working model. I wondered at the ease with which he handled his fork, and was surprised that he did not run it into his nose or under his chin. He told one of the khitmutgars to wait on me, and this man did his best to help me.