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Does the story show "poetic insight"? Cf. House of the Seven Gables, Chap. Does the change wrought in Roaring Camp seem to you to be reasonable? The polo-ball was an old one, scarred, chipped, and dinted. It stood on the mantelpiece among the pipe-stems which Imam Din, khitmatgar, was cleaning for me. "Does the Heaven-born want this ball?" said Imam Din deferentially.
He carried out the battered thing into the verandah; and there followed a hurricane of joyful squeaks, a patter of small feet, and the thud-thud-thud of the ball rolling along the ground. Evidently the little son had been waiting outside the door to secure his treasure. But how had he managed to see that polo-ball?
He that sees in his own house, at home, little children crowned with dust, leaping and falling and crying. Munichandra, translated by Professor Peterson. The polo-ball was an old one, scarred, chipped, and dinted. It stood on the mantelpiece among the pipe-stems which Imam Din, khitmatgar, was cleaning for me. 'Does the Heaven-born want this ball? said Imam Din deferentially.
But I think that love will be truer and more permanent in which self-sacrifice has been exacted. And, in the case of the other women, Edward just cut in and cut them out as he did with the polo-ball from under the nose of Count Baron von Lelöffel.
The Heaven-born set no particular store by it; but of what use was a polo-ball to a khitmatgar? "By Your Honour's favour, I have a little son. He has seen this ball, and desires it to play with. I do not want it for myself." No one would for an instant accuse portly old Imam Din of wanting to play with polo-balls.
He carried out the battered thing into the verandah; and there followed a hurricane of joyful squeaks, a patter of small feet, and the thud-thud-thud of the ball rolling along the ground. Evidently the little son had been waiting outside the door to secure his treasure. But how had he managed to see that polo-ball?
The Heaven-born set no particular store by it; but of what use was a polo-ball to a khitmatgar? 'By Your Honour's favour, I have a little son. He has seen this ball, and desires it to play with, I do not want it for myself. No one would for an instant accuse portly old Imam Din of wanting to play with polo-balls.
But how had he managed to see that polo-ball? Next day, coming back from office half an hour earlier than usual, I was aware of a small figure in the dining-room a tiny, plump figure in a ridiculously inadequate shirt which came, perhaps, half-way down the tubby stomach. It wandered round the room, thumb in mouth, crooning to itself as it took stock of the pictures.
He had half buried the polo-ball in the dust, and stuck six shrivelled old marigold flowers in a circle round it. Outside that circle again was a rude square, traced out in bits of red brick alternating with fragments of broken china; the whole bounded by a little bank of dust.
He used to trot about the compound, in and out of the castor-oil bushes, on mysterious errands of his own. One day I stumbled upon some of his handiwork far down the grounds. He had half buried the polo-ball in dust, and stuck six shrivelled old marigold flowers in a circle round it.
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