Srish said, laughing, “Have the cucumbers been stolen again?”

“Neither cucumbers nor melons; this time a most valuable thing has been stolen.”

“Where is the robbery?” asked Srish.

“The robbery took place at Govindpur.  My elder brother had a broken shell in a golden box.  Some one has stolen it.”

Srish, not understanding the metaphor, said “Your brother’s golden casket is Surja Mukhi.  What is the broken shell?”

“Surja Mukhi’s wits,” replied Kamal.

“People say if one has a mind to play he can do so, though the shells are broken” (referring to a game played with shells).  “If Surja Mukhi’s understanding is defective, yet with it she gained your brother’s heart, and with all your wisdom, you could not bring him over to your side.  Who has stolen the broken shell?”

“That I know not; but, from reading her letter, I perceive it is gone—­else how could a woman write such a letter?”

“May I see the letter?” asked Srish.

Kamal Mani placed the letter in her husband’s hand, saying:  “Surja Mukhi forbade my telling you all this; but while I keep it from you I am quite uneasy.  I can neither sleep nor eat, and I fear I may lose my senses.”

“If you have been forbidden to tell me of the matter I cannot read this letter, nor do I wish to hear its contents.  Tell me what has to be done.”

“This is what must be done,” replied Kamal.  “Surja Mukhi’s wits are scattered, and must be restored.  There is no one that can do this except Satish Babu.  His aunt has written requesting that he may be sent to Govindpur.”

Satish Babu had in the meantime upset a vase of flowers, and was now aiming at the inkstand.  Watching him, Srish Chandra said:  “Yes; he he is well fitted to act as physician.  I understand now.  He is invited to his aunt’s house; if he goes, his mother must go also.  Surja Mukhi’s wits must be lost, or she could not have sent such an invitation.”

“Not Satish Babu only; we are all invited.”

“Why am I invited?” asked Srish.

“Can I go alone?” replied Kamal.  “Who will look after the luggage?”

“It is very unreasonable in Surja Mukhi if she wants her husband’s brother-in-law only that he may look after the luggage.  I can find some one else to perform that office for a couple of days.”

Kamal Mani was angry; she frowned, mocked at Srish Chandra, and, snatching the paper on which he was writing out of his hand, tore it to pieces.

Srish Chandra, smiling, said, “It serves you right.”

Kamal, affecting anger, said, “I will speak in that way if I wish!”

Srish, in the same tone, replied, “And I shall speak as I choose!”