whatever they liked. But I am not to be taken in like that. I went straight to the man and asked him, "Please sir, have you heard, they call you a kati." The man burst into a laugh. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed, and his huge stomach shook with laughter. What a sight he was! More like a big Dacca jar than a man."
"Was he?" Was the brief response of the sister-in-law.
Early next morning, before the crows and koels had begun their cry, Surama was already out of her bed. Gopal lay cuddled up under the blanket, his knees under his chest, and his arms clasping a pillow, fast asleep. A smile was playing on his lips. Obviously the enormous jar of that recruiter's body, shaking with laughter, was keeping up a supply of laughter in his dreams. Surama covered him with an expensive embroidered quilt and went out of the room. Even at that early hour, you could find a few of the young house-wives of the village at the tank at the back of the house. The eldest daughter of the other branch of the Dutt family came up, rubbing her eyes, and as she saw Surama exclaimed:
"What! Are you up so soon? I hope there is nothing wrong with Gopal."
"Oh no, he is all right," Surama replied. "But my father is very ill. No ordinary illness this time, but smallpox. I am very anxious about it. I must start to-day at noon, and catch the night train."
"Your father, Ah! Ah! he is a good old man. May Sitala (goddess of small-pox) spare him," said the daughter of the Dutts.
"I was going to see you, sister," Surama said with some hesitation. "I can't take Gopal with me. If only you could keep him for a few days,"-
The sister was in a pleasant mood.
"Of course, I will," replied she. "It is nothing at all
