It was a winter afternoon—past three o'clock. The sun had declined towards the western horizon. Maloti, coming out of her bedroom, stood in the verandah. Bhojooa's mother, according to her custom, was lying down in a corner wrapped up in blankets and snoring away. Maloti felt a little amused as she saw her in this condition. "The amount of sleep she can get through"—muttered Maloti to herself—"is really wonderful."
At this moment a hoarse voice was heard shouting outside—"Babu!—Eji Babu!"
Maloti ran towards the door and peeping through a chink, saw that it was a station porter loaded with baggage. An elderly Bengalee lady with widow's weeds on, stood by his side.
Maloti ran back to the verandah and called out the name of Bhojooah's mother, trying to wake her up. She did it several times, all to no purpose. Then at last she began to shake her violently crying—"A gay Bhojooah kay mayee!" At last the woman did awake, went to the door shivering and let the lady in.
A second later, the stranger stood in the verandah, calmly looking at Maloti. The girl thought she must be a relation of her husband's—but then no one was expected. She remained in a
