A month went by. Mother was fast losing her pale, thin looks and recovering her former healthy appearance, and I hoped that within a month I should be able to return to Calcutta after sending mother back to her village home. In the meantime, I whiled away the time with the help of the fish and milk of the country and with long walks. And I slept to my heart's content.
After enjoying my morning tea I was on the point of starting for a walk, when my mother said: "Do take Raju with you. The maid-servant has gone away early today on the usual excuse of a niece's marriage. The child will either roam about in the sun or break his limbs falling from a tree. I have grown too old to be able to look after such a boy."
I went in search of Raju. And after going over the whole house and garden, I found him perched on the branch of a guava tree. I captured him and started for my walk.
Raju's manner of walking was his own. He never took a straight course, but followed what in geometrical language would be called a diagonal line. So rather than let him walk in his own fashion, I took him by the hand and began to walk across a large field.
Something round and hard kept on hittling me on the leg. What on earth could it be? I looked down and found that some round objects were vainly trying to burst away out of Rajus coat pockets and were the cause of this bumping. "What is this, Raju?" I asked.
Raju answered shortly: "Guavas."
"What do you want with so many? Could'nt you have left some of them at home? Your pocket is nearly bursting."
Raju treated my suggestion and latter question with a supreme indifference and said: "I shall eat two myself and give three to Molly."
