In this manner Debendra discovered Hira’s affection for himself.  He thought:  “Now I know you, I can make you dance to my measure, and whenever I please effect my designs through you.”

With these thoughts in his mind, he departed.  But Debendra did not yet know Hira.

CHAPTER XX.

GOOD NEWS.

It is mid-day.  Srish Babu is at office.  The people in his house are all taking the noon siesta after their meal.  The boita khana is locked.  A mongrel terrier is sleeping on the door-mat outside, his head between his paws.  A couple of servants are seizing the opportunity to chat together in whispers.

Kamal Mani is sitting in her sleeping chamber at her ease, needle in hand, sewing at some canvas work, her hair all loose; no one about but Satish Babu, indulging in many noises.  Satish Babu at first tried to snatch away his mother’s wool; but finding it securely guarded, he gave his mind to sucking the head of a clay tiger.  In the distance a cat with outstretched paws sits watching them both.  Her disposition was grave, her face indicated much wisdom and a heart void of fickleness.  She is thinking:  “The condition of human creatures is frightful; their minds are ever given to sewing canvas, playing with dolls, or some such silly employment.  Their thoughts are not turned to good works, nor to providing suitable food for cats.  What will become of them hereafter?” Elsewhere, a lizard on the wall with upraised face is watching a fly.  No doubt he is pondering the evil disposition of flies.  A butterfly is flying about.  In the spot where Satish Babu sits eating sweets, the flies collect in swarms; the ants also do their share towards removing the sweet food.  In a few moments the lizard, not being able to catch the fly, moves elsewhere.  The cat also, seeing no means by which she could improve the disposition of mankind, heaving a sigh, slowly departs.  The butterfly wings its way out of the room.  Kamal Mani, tired of her work, puts it down, and turns to talk with Satish Babu.

“Oh, Satu Babu, can you tell me why men go to office?”

“Sli—­li—­bli,” was the child’s only answer.

“Satu Babu,” said his mother, “mind you never go to office.”

“Hama,” said Satu.

“What do you mean by Hama?  You must not go to office to do hama.  Do not go at all.  If you do, the Bou will sit crying at home before the day is half done.”

Satish Babu understood the word Bou, because Kamal Mani kept him in order by saying that the Bou would come and beat him; so he said, “Bou will beat.”

“Remember that, then; if you go to office, the Bou will beat you.”

How long this sort of conversation would have continued does not appear, for at that moment a maid-servant entered, rubbing her sleepy eyes, and gave a letter to Kamal Mani.  Kamal saw it was from Surja Mukhi; she read it twice through, then sat silent and dejected.  This was the letter: