can return home with your brother without the least misgiving."
Sasi said: "Saheb, so long as he does not get back his own home, I dare not take him there. Unless you keep Nilmani with you, none else will be able to save him."
"And what would you do?" queried the Saheb.
"I will retire to my husband's house," said Sasi; "there is nothing to fear for me."
The Saheb smiled a little, and as there was nothing else to do, agreed to take charge of this lean, dusty, grave, sedate, gentle Bengali boy whose neck was ringed with amulets.
When Sasi was about to take her leave, the boy clutched her dress. "Don't be frightened, baba,—come," said the Saheb. With tears streaming behind her veil, Sasi said: "Do go, my brother, my darling brother—you will meet your sister again!"
Saying this she embraced him and stroked his head and back, and releasing her dress, hastily withdrew; and just then the Saheb put his left arm round him. The child wailed out: "Sister, oh, my sister!" Sasi turned round at once, and with out-
