he ordered the bailiff to "go ahead," and took an early train for Calcutta in order to set up an alibi in case of legal proceedings. A day or two later his bailiff, attended by six or seven men armed with iron-shod bamboo staves, assembled at the outskirts of Kumodini Babu's market, on a spot where four roads met.
Ere long a cart was descried approaching from eastwards, whose driver bawled snatches of song and puffed his hookah between whiles. When it reached the crossing, the bailiff shouted:—
"Stop! whither so early, friend?"
"To market," the man replied carelessly.
"Whose market?"
"The new one, started by Kumodini Babu."
"What have you got in those baskets of yours?"
"Oh, sweet potatoes, brinjáls (egg-plants), and a lot of other vegetables."
"Why don't you attend Ramani Babu's market?"
"Because it does not pay me to go there."
"So you used to take your vegetables to Ramani Babu's market?"
"Yes; but there are hardly any customers left. Now please let me go; the sun is high up."
"So you won't obey me!"
"No!" roared the carter, prodding his oxen viciously.
