'He cannot go now,' said Mejda with a rumble of thunder in his voice.
Come,-come and have your sleep out, you wretched monkey.' She dragged me along, forgetting all about the brinjals. I shan't have any peace of mind until I have turned you out of the house, vagabond that you are. One ought to tie up such boys hand and foot and whip them all over with stinging nettles. Then she exclaimed, 'Just what I thought: it is quite hot. Come here: let me see-' and rattling off one question after another, she came forward and felt my forehead with her hand. Where have you been, you scamp? Dear me, what a black face he has got, and red eyes too! I shouldn't wonder if he has got fever.
Fancy his slinking away with that rascal Indra without saying a word! Heaven knows what kind of food he has had and where. 'So you have come at last, you vagabond? And when were you pleased to arrive? Where under the sun have you been? Good gracious, what a jewel of a boy you are, to be sure! I couldn't get any sleep last night, worrying myself to death about you. Then suddenly, 'Will you look up the almanac, Satish,' said a voice at the side-door, 'and see whether brinjals are prohibited or not?' and my aunt, the mistress of the house, appeared. Perfect silence reigned for a minute while I wondered miserably what form my punishment was to take, for punishment of some sort was, I knew, an inevitable sequel to my having spent the night away from home. It may well be doubted whether he had ever had an opportunity so pregnant with splendid possibilities of punishing a culprit. His feelings must have been like those of a tiger that has secured its prey and that sits careless and nonchalant, not troubling even to look at it. He lifted his head and, after looking at me for an instant, resumed his reading without a word. Mejda was deep in his studies, just as he had been on the previous evening when the alarm of 'Tiger' was raised. He has just come in', and, eagerly dragging me along, he made me stand on the doormat of the drawing-room. He suddenly came bounding towards me at a frantic speed, announcing my arrival with a deafening yell, 'Srikanta has come, Mejda. Jatinda was about my age so it was he, naturally, who was most excited at my return. 'Here he is,' 'Here he is,' shouted everyone in a wild chorus: and at the greeting I felt as if my throbbing heart were going to stop. AFTER walking along the banks of the Ganges with steps weighed down by an overpowering fatigue, I arrived home with red eyes and a blanched and haggard face.
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