"When will the train reach Madhupur?"
"At twelve o'clock."
I reflected—"The man is so angry with me that until I leave the train—until he has got rid of the sinner—he cannot rest."
The train started. A little later I felt the touch of a hand on my rug. "Sadananda Babu—wake up!"
My name not being Sadananda, I took no notice.
"Brother! Sit up, they say we approach Madhupur. Get up! get up!"
I threw the rug from my face.
"Brother, are you angry?"
I sat up—and said, drily—"Have you a monopoly of anger?"
Gently patting me on my back, the old man said—"Do not be angry. I am an old man. If a couple of words are said, do we need quarrel further? I am a hot-tempered man, and I fancied the fault was all on your side. Forgive me."
It struck me that this was truly the man's nature. He had said—"I fancied the fault was all yours," and it was evident he still thought some of the blame was mine—if not all. But the old man's tones were so gentle and pitiful, that my former anger against him departed. I smiled in sign of reconciliation. Madan Babu said—"If I
