commemorate the occasion. And when pretty Queen Humeeda (thinking of her
husband, the king, who, with his few followers, had ridden off to see if
a neighboring chief would help them) said, "This will be joyful news
wherewith to cheer my lord on his return," Head-nurse's irritation found
voice.

"That is all very well," she cried. "So it would be to any
common father of any common child, Your Royal Highness! This one
is the Admired-of-the-Whole-World, the Source-of-Dignity, the
Most-Magnificent-Person-of-the-Period----"

And she went on rolling out queer guttural Arabic titles till
Foster-mother implored her to be silent or she would frighten the child.
Could she not see the look on the darling's face?

For Baby Akbar was indeed listening to something with his little finger
up to command attention. But it was not to Head-nurse's thunderings, but
to the first long, low growl of a coming storm that outside the
miserable tent was turning the distant hills to purple and darkening the
fast-fading daylight.

"Frighten?" echoed Head-nurse in derision. "The son of Humâyon the
heroic, the grandson of Baber the brave could never be frightened at
anything!"

And in truth the little lad was not a bit afraid, even when a distant
flash of lightning glimmered through the dusk.

"Heavens!" cried gentle Queen Humeeda, "his Majesty will be drenched to
the skin ere he returns." She was a brave woman, but the long, long