fork does not constitute good manners. Fine manners, indeed, to force upon an unguarded man a sort of food he does not eat."
"You were starving. I gave you to eat of what I had, and this is my reward."
"I was starving, indeed! Did I come crying to you for food?"
"Oh, say what you like"—I cried angrily, and wrapping myself in my rug I lay down on the bench.
The Babu scolded on without interruption. Gradually, his voice softened. The memory of his earthen pot lost at Pundooah station returned to his mind, and he said—"If I had had that food with me, this misfortune would not have occurred,"—and so forth. I thought to myself that the man was half mad. By continually talking he calmed himself; then I recognised by the sounds that he was preparing his hookah; then he smoked. I covered my face with my rug and tried to sleep, but sleep would not come. Madan Babu prolonged his smoke.
At length the train stopped at Asansole. Putting his head out of window, he called—"Chuprassi! O Chuprassi!"
A man approached and was asked—"Can you tell me the hour?"
"Half-past eleven, Sir"—the man answered.
