A few minutes passed and then the Magistrate entered. He shook hands with Nagendra Babu, and asking him to be seated, enquired—"How is everything in town now?"
"It is in its normal condition, Sir."
"Any excitement among the Swadeshiwallas?"
"None that I know of."
Lighting a cigarette, the Magistrate observed—"This Swadeshi is a damned rot.—What do you think of it, Nagendra Babu?"
"Sir—"
"Mind you, the real Swadeshi—an honest endeavour to help and improve the industries of the country—is a very good thing—and it has the hearty support of us all. But this hulla—this burning of Manchester cloth—what is all this?"
"That's wicked, Sir"—replied Nagendra Babu in a tone almost apologetic.
A short silence followed. The Magistrate then broke it, saying—"By the way—that biscuit case is in your file—isn't it?"
"Yes, Sir, it is."
"Oh the impudence of these boys! They almost fractured the poor Kansama's skull. They scattered the biscuits on the road and danced on them like so many devils. If these young scoundrels are not taught a good lesson now,—they
