Roy sat looking from the letter to the bangle with a distinctly pleasant kind of mixed-up feeling inside.  He was so surprised, so comforted, so elated by this tribute from his High Tower Princess, who was an exacting person in the matter of heroes.  Now—­besides being a Knight and a champion he was Bracelet-Bound Brother as well.

Only the other day his mother had told them a tale about this old custom of bracelet-sending in Rajputana:—­how, on a certain holy day, any woman—­married or not married—­may send her bracelet token to any man.  If he accepts it, and sends in return an embroidered bodice, he becomes from that hour her bracelet brother, vowed to her service, like a Christian Knight in the days of chivalry.  The bracelet may be of gold or jewels or even of silk interwoven with spangles—­like Tara’s impromptu token.  The two who are bracelet-bound might possibly never meet face to face.  Yet she, who sends, may ask of him who accepts, any service she pleases; and he may not deny it—­even though it involve the risk of his life.

The ancient custom, she told them, still holds good, though it has declined in use, like all things chivalrous, in an age deafened by the clamour of industrial strife; an age grown blind to the beauty of service, that, in defiance of “progress,” still remains the keynote of an Indian woman’s life.

So these privileged children had heard much of it, through the medium of Lilamani’s Indian tales; and this particular one had made a deeper impression on Tara than on Roy; perhaps because the budding woman in her relished the power of choice and command it conferred on her own sex.  Certainly no thought of possible future commands dawned on Roy.  It was her pride in his achievement, so characteristically expressed that flattered his incipient masculine vanity and added a cubit to his stature.  He knew now what he meant to be when he grew up.  Not a painter, or a soldier or a gardener—­but a Bracelet-Bound Brother....

Gingerly, almost shyly, he slipped over his hand the deftly woven, trifle of ribbon and gleaming hair.  As the first glow of pleasure subsided, there sprang the instinctive thought—­“Won’t Mummy be pleased!” And straightway he was caught afresh in the toils of his dilemma—­How could he possibly explain——?

What was she doing?  Why didn’t she come——?

There——!  His ear caught far-off footsteps—­too heavy for hers.  He slipped off the Bracelet, folded it in Tara’s letter and tucked it away inside his shirt.

Hurriedly—­a little nervously—­he tied his brown bow and got upon his feet, just as the door opened and his father came in.