The sound of slippers was heard again. Approaching the door, Harihar Mukerji said: "You have had enough time,—I can't allow you more. Turn the girl out of the house."
Kusum, as she heard this, embraced her husband's feet with all the ardour of a lifetime, covered them with kisses, and touching her forehead to them reverentially, withdrew herself.
Hemanta rose, and walking to the door, said: "Father, I won't forsake my wife."
"What!" roared out Harihar, "would you lose your caste, sir?"
"I don't care for caste," was Hemanta's calm reply.
"Then you too I renounce."
THE CABULIWALLAH
(THE FRUITSELLER FROM CABUL)
My five years' old daughter Mini cannot live without chattering. I really believe that in all her life she has not wasted a minute in silence. Her mother is often vexed at this, and would stop her prattle, but I would not. To see Mini quiet is unnatural, and I cannot bear it long. And so my own talk with her is always lively.