"Come on, doctor," said Dada, impatiently interrupting the flow of words.
He was there, face down on the grass, and the squirrels were playing over his dead body and searching for crumbs.
"No!" said Dada, when the coolies came with a string bed again. "Bring a spade or two. I'm going to bury him here."
The doctor, having religious views, looked doubtful. "I--I wonder if it is consecrated ground?"
"I hope to God it is!" said Dada, fervently.
As they lingered at the gate when the work was over, a squirrel hung head downward on the peepul-trunk, eying the new-turned earth suspiciously. Then another with bushy tail erect came hopping fearlessly over the grass--
"Cher ip--a pip--pip--pip!"
It was a challenge. The next moment they were chasing each other over the cross of quamoclits.
Dada closed the gate softly.
"Lovely, lovely 'quilth,'" he murmured to himself.