the last few days, Surama had been fighting Death and had at last snatched her father from his clutches; but today, when there was a chance of his recovery, her tired eyes were heavy with sleep, and she sat curled up at the door of the kitchen, drowsing. She dreamed in one of the snatches of sleep, that Gopal was saying: "Bou-than, I got no cakes this year to eat. I'll never speak with you again, never; I am rid of you forever!" Surama awoke on hearing the postman's call. "Aunt," cried a little fellow, handing her a couple of letters smeared with treacle, "Here are two letters for you. Just fancy, two!" Gopal's handwriting startled her into pleasure, and she hurriedly opened the letter and read:
"Bou-than,
You are very naughty. Wait, you'll see the fun. I'll teach you a lesson. So you are coming on the Pous Parban (Cake Festival Day), didn't you say? I start tomorrow morning, and drag you here by force. Serve you right!"
She grew anxious, as she thought with whom so little a boy was coming: but carelessly opening the other letter, she read,
"Dear Sister,
I am anxious, because I have not heard from you for so long. Relieve my anxiety by sending some good news about yourself. On the Pous Parban Day, I made cakes all day long, remembering you were not here, and gave Gopal a good feed. But he ate them with a kind of heavy face. At night, however, when he went to bed, he looked quite cheerful. I have not the courage to tell you more; but this morning, when I found his bed empty, I had an uneasy feeling. A search was made, but he could not be found. A fisherman, who had gone out to catch fish before day break, tells us that he saw a boy, like Gopal, going along the road to the railway station with
