Nearly an hour passed and he began to grow impatient. He went to the entrance of the yard and stood at the open gateway. A man ran hastily round the corner of the house, his body bent under the load he was carrying. It was one of Ananda's portmanteaux. He approached the gateway and stopped in front of it. Ananda looked him up and down and recognised him as a pariah employed as a sweeper outside the house.
"What are you doing with my luggage?" he demanded angrily.
The man put down his load and prostrated himself, touching the ground with his forehead.
"The master ordered me to bring the two leather boxes belonging to your honour."
"It is not for men such as you are to touch anything belonging to a son of the house."
The pariah put his hands together palm to palm in abject apology and deprecation.
"This lump of mud, this poor worm had no choice but to do the master's bidding. He held his stick over my unprotected body, and threatened to beat me if I did not bring the boxes."
He scrambled to his feet and ran off thankful to escape punishment from the owner of the trunks, and reappeared with the second. Ananda directed him to leave them at the gateway. When the man had gone he carried them into the room himself. The dust flew in clouds as he set them down one after the other against the wall. The neat dark suit he wore was stained and his fingers soiled. Involuntarily he glanced round for the English washstand for means to rid himself of the offending dust. He smiled at his own ridiculous expectations and turned to the fresh air outside, sweet and pure and refreshing, and cleansed his hands as well as he could on the coarse grass.
A figure approached and he recognised his uncle, Sooba Iyer. His face cleared and he advanced with outstretched hand.
"It is good to see you again, my little father. You are the first to greet me. Where are the rest?"