uncommon for a sister to keep her little brother for a short time!"
Surama now gently came to the point. "You know sister," whispered she, "your little brother will not have me out of his sight for a moment. I had to tell him, I would come back on the day of the cake festival; but, between you and me, this won't be possible. That is why I was going to say,—of course, he is your cousin, you'll take care of him. But he's rather sensitive, and may cry on the festival day. Keep an eye on him, do. I know, I needn't tell you all this.—for he is your little brother, but I say it all the same."
"Certainly, I'll take care of him," said the sister. "Don't be anxious. I'll make him plenty of cakes."
At noon a bullock cart drew up at the door. Gopal was then kneeling before his trunk, busily engaged in ransacking his wardrobe for the Sashipur fair. As he was smoothing out a crumpled silver-bordered dhoti for himself, Surama's small green box, and a big wickerbasket, containing four small bundles, made up of a napkin fastened at the corners, were placed on the cart. Wrapped in an old blue shawl, Surama turned the key of the inner room, and came towards the cart. As her eyes fell on Gopal, she said: "It is time for me to start, darling." He raised his large eyes and pouted; but his hands were still in his trunk. She pressed his soft cheeks and touched his forehead with her lips. He was too busy to say good bye to her, and put his head again into the trunk. As he heard the rattle of the cart, he looked up and saw his sister-in-law holding up the screen behind the cart and looking at him.
All day long her mind fluttered in anxiety about the boy. Not that she ceased to think of her father; but when the early bond of her own home had been cruelly torn
