Here the voice died away, and while I was straining my ears to catch it I felt myself touched. It was a real sensation this time, for my little friend Aglaia was at my elbow. She was in a white robe daintily trimmed with lace that went down to her tiny bare feet, and her pretty yellow hair was all ruffled with the wind. 'Look!' she said, pointing to the east. I obeyed her, and oh! what a spectacle it was. For while we had slept the rosy-fingered dawn, descending, had opened the windows of heaven. Lost in rapture I was gazing in, when my little friend's small, plaintive voice recalled me to the earth. 'Aglaia is cold,' it said. 'Carry her.' I stooped, wrapped her from head to foot in my plaidie, and took her up in my arms, whereupon she laughed out joyfully. 'That's nice,' she said. 'I'm glad you're so big. Let me look at heaven, and then I'll go down to mammy.' CHAPTER IX DELHI: VIVIEN: A MALCONTENT The part of Tom's diary which deals with the early days of his stay in India is too elaborate and introspective to be largely used here. But the service it has rendered to the writer of this story in enabling him to trace its somewhat labyrinthine mazes is incalculable. He has, however, other sources of information. The servants whom Chunder Singh gathered round the young heir as soon as he arrived in Bombay--intelligent men all of them, and trained to their work by that notable man, Byrajee Pirtha Raj, the late rajah of Gumilcund--have given him many useful details. He has also been in communication with the friends and acquaintances whom Tom made on the road. Chunder Singh, after making every arrangement for his comfort, left him in Bombay and proceeded at once to Gumilcund, Tom himself having determined not to go thither until he should have acquired a far greater familiarity with the language, and some insight into the manners and sentiments of the people. This knowledge he hoped to gain by travelling.