The boys began to heave at the log with all their might, calling out, ‘One, two, three, go!’ At the word ‘go’ the log went; and with it went Makhan’s philosophy, glory and all.

The other boys shouted themselves hoarse with delight. But Phatik was a little frightened. He knew what was coming. And, sure enough, Makhan rose from Mother Earth blind as Fate and screaming like the Furies. He rushed at Phatik and scratched his face and beat him and kicked him, and then went crying home. The first act of the drama was over.

Phatik wiped his face, and sat down on the edge of a sunken barge by the river bank, and began to chew a piece of grass. A boat came up to the landing and a middle-aged man, with grey hair and dark moustache, stepped on shore. He saw the boy sitting there doing nothing and asked him where the Chakravortis lived. Phatik went on chewing the grass and said: ‘Over there,’ but it was quite impossible to tell where he pointed. The stranger asked him again. He swung his legs to and fro on the side of the barge and said: ‘Go and find out,’ and continued to chew the grass as before.

But now a servant came down from the house and told Phatik his mother wanted him. Phatik refused to move. But the servant was the master on this occasion. He took Phatik up roughly and carried him, kicking and struggling in impotent rage.

When Phatik came into the house, his mother saw him. She called out angrily: ‘So you have been hitting Makhan again?’

Phatik answered indignantly: ‘No, I haven’t! Who told you that?’

His mother shouted: ‘Don’t tell lies! You have.’

Phatik said sullenly: ‘I tell you, I haven’t. You ask Makhan!’ But Makhan thought it best to stick to his previous statement. He said: ‘Yes, mother. Phatik did hit me.’

Phatik’s patience was already exhausted. He could not bear this injustice. He rushed at Makhan and hammered him with blows: ‘Take that,’ he cried, ‘and that, and that, for telling lies.’

His mother took Makhan’s side in a moment, and pulled Phatik away, beating him with her hands. When Phatik pushed her aside, she shouted out: ‘What! you little villain! Would you hit your own mother?’

It was just at this critical juncture that the grey-haired stranger arrived. He asked what was the matter. Phatik looked sheepish and ashamed.

But when his mother stepped back and looked at the stranger, her anger was changed to surprise. For she recognized her brother and cried: ‘Why, Dada! Where have you come from?’

As she said these words, she bowed to the ground and touched his feet. Her brother had gone away soon after she had married; and he had started business in Bombay. His sister had lost her husband while he was there. Bishamber had now come back to Calcutta and had at once made enquiries about his sister. He had then hastened to see her as soon as he found out where she was.