'Say it.

In a breath my father will allow it.

I want the gold-faced one to come and play.' The Maharajah nodded, and this time Tooni lay down at the feet of the little prince.
'It is,' said she, 'that--I am a widow and old--that I also may live in the farthest corner within the courtyard walls, with the boy.' The Maharajah slipped the bag quickly into the pocket of his blue and yellow coat.
'It is a strange preference,' he said, 'but the Mussulmans have no minds.

It may be.' Tooni kissed his feet, and Sonny Sahib nodded approval at him.
Somehow, Sonny Sahib never could be taught good Rajput manners.
'The boy is well grown,' said the Maharajah, turning upon his heel.
'What is his name ?' 'Protector of the poor,' answered Tooni, quivering with delight, 'his name is Sonny Sahib.' Perhaps nobody has told you why the English are called Sahibs in India.

It is because they rule there.
The Maharajah's face went all into a pucker of angry wrinkles, and his eyes shone like little coals.
'What talk is that ?' he said angrily.