Gabby’s brown eyes lit with amusement. “Perhaps the tiger was so mortified by his own lack of courage that he went to a far-off mountaintop and lived on nothing but fruits and vegetables.”

“I don’t think so.” Phoebe was a very practical little girl. “I think it’s more likely that the tiger would have gone after that goat and eaten him up.”

“The tiger had a cat’s natural abhorrence for water,” Gabby said. “He didn’t see the beauty of the waves as they danced into shore. To him the curling waves looked like the claws of tiny crabs, reaching out to nibble his bones!”

Phoebe gave a thrilled little shriek just as the door to the cabin swung open, breaking the spell of Gabby’s voice.

The black-gowned figure of Eudora Sibbald stared at the scene before her. Miss Gabrielle Jerningham was unaccountably positioned on the floor. As always, her hair was tumbling out of its knot and her dress was rumpled. It wasn’t for Mrs. Sibbald to recognize the beauty of Gabby’s shining golden-brown hair as it worked loose from pins and combs and assumed its normal position: halfway up and halfway down. No—what Phoebe’s governess saw was a proper hoyden, a young lady whose hair echoed her general demeanor.

“Phoebe.” Her voice rasped like a rusty gate.

Phoebe scrambled to her feet and bobbed a curtsy.

“Miss Jerningham,” Mrs. Sibbald continued, rather as if she were addressing a recalcitrant scullery maid.

Gabby was already on her feet and greeting Mrs. Sibbald with a charming smile. “Do forgive us—” she began.

But Mrs. Sibbald interrupted. “Miss Jerningham, I might have misunderstood you.” Her bearing indicated that she never misunderstood anything. “I trust that I did not hear you mention nibbled bones?”

Really, Gabby thought to herself, Sibbald couldn’t have entered at a worse moment.

“Oh, no,” Gabby said, her voice soothing. “I was merely telling Phoebe an improving tale from the Bible.”

Mrs. Sibbald’s jaw lengthened. She’d heard what she’d heard, and it didn’t sound like any Bible tale to her.

“The story of Jonah and the whale,” Gabby added hastily. “You know, Mrs. Sibbald, since my father is a missionary, I find it quite natural to relate stories from the Bible wherever I go.”

Mrs. Sibbald’s mouth relaxed slightly. “Well, in that case, Miss Jerningham,” she allowed. “However, I must beg you not to overexcite the child. Excitement is injurious to the digestion. And where is Master Kasi Rao Holkar?”

“I believe Kasi is taking a nap at the present, Mrs. Sibbald. He mentioned a wish to retire.”

“If you’ll forgive me for saying so, Miss Jerningham, you coddle that boy. Prince or not, a deserving tale from the Bible would do him some good. After all, he’s a native. Lord only knows what sort of influences he had as a child.”