I stepped into the room
and startled him nearly into a fit. He sat down on the ground with a gasp. His
eyes opened, and his mouth followed suit. I knew what was coming, and fled,
followed by a long, dry howl which reached the servants' quarters far more
quickly than any command of mine had ever done. In ten seconds Imam Din was in
the dining-room. Then despairing sobs arose, and I returned to find Imam Din
admonishing the small sinner who was using most of his shirt as a handkerchief.
"This boy," said Imam Din, judicially, "is a budmash, a big budmash. He will,
without doubt, go to the jail-khana for his behavior." Renewed yells from the
penitent, and an elaborate apology to myself from Imam Din.
"Tell the baby," said I, "that the Sahib is not angry, and take him away." Imam
Din conveyed my forgiveness to the offender, who had now gathered all his shirt
round his neck, string-wise, and the yell subsided into a sob. The two set off
for the door. "His name," said Imam Din, as though the name were part of the
crime, "is Muhammad Din, and he is a budmash." Freed from present danger,
Muhammad Din turned round, in his father's arms, and said gravely:--"It is true
that my name is Muhammad Din, Tahib, but I am not a budmash.
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