army at his back, his hands would be tied from revenge on
the Court at Kabul.

Now, Askurry was no fool; he saw that, for the present at any rate,
until Humayon's fate was decided, it would be wiser to be kind; so he
decided that when he held the New Year's assemblage he would present the
little prince in due form to the chiefs and nobles.

Head-nurse was almost crazy with delight at the very idea. She and
Foster-mother sent all their jewels to the goldsmith to be made up into
suitable ornaments for Baby Akbar, and they ransacked the shops for odd
scraps of brocade with which to make him the finest of fine state robes.

And on the eventful day they began the child's toilette early, pressing
Roy the Rajput into service as tire-woman to hold the ointments, and
scents, and what not, that they deemed necessary for the due dressing of
a Prince.

So that it rather dashed their spirits when Foster-father came in with a
sober face and the news that a man had come into the bazaar bringing bad
tidings of the King and Queen. They had, he said, been lost in the snow;
but whether this was true or not, who could tell?

"Then what is the use of worrying?" snapped Head-nurse, who was too much
occupied in making her charge beautiful to think of other things. "Lo!
Foster-father, evil is never lost on the road. It arrives sooner or
later, so why watch for it at the door?"

"That is true," replied Foster-father, "but mark my words, all depends
on good news. If that comes, the child is safe; if evil--then God help
him!"

Roy, who, Baby Akbar being nearly dressed, was now holding the pot of
lamp-black and oil with which Head-nurse, after the Indian custom, would
put a finishing touch to her work by smearing a big black smut on the
child's forehead, lest he should be too sweet and so attract an envious,
evil eye, looked up at the words, his face full of light and
remembrance.

"God does help true kingship," he said proudly. "Mother used to say so,
and that is why she was never afraid--" He paused and the light in his
face faded. "I--I don't remember any more," he added apologetically.

"Remembrance or no," snapped Head-nurse, "hold the pot straight, boy, or
thou wilt spill it over the Mighty-in-Pomp, the Admired-of-the-World,"
etc.

But Foster-father looked at Old Faithful and laid his hand kindly on
Roy's shoulder. "It matters not, Roy! It is there within thee, all the
same. And 'twill come back some day, never fear. And I for o