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When the time of Congress drew near, Nilratan received a request from head-quarters to collect subscriptions. Nabendu, free from anxiety, was merrily engaged in a game of cards with his sister-in. law, when Nilratan Babu came upon him with a subscription-book in his hand, and said: “Your signature, please.”

>From old habit Nabendu looked horrified. Labanya, assuming an air of great concern and anxiety, said: “Never do that. It would ruin your racecourse beyond repair.”

Nabendu blurted out: “Do you suppose I pass sleepless nights through fear of that?”

“We won’t publish your name in the papers,” said Nilratan reassuringly.

Labanya, looking grave and anxious, said: “Still, it wouldn’t be safe. Things spread so, from mouth to mouth—”

Nabendu replied with vehemence: “My name wouldn’t suffer by appearing in the newspapers.” So saying, he snatched the subscription list from Nilratan’s hand, and signed away a thousand rupees. Secretly he hoped that the papers would not publish the news.

Labanya struck her forehead with her palm and gasped out: What–have you–done?”

“Nothing wrong,” said Nabendu boastfully.

“But—but–,” drawled Labanya, “the Guard sahib of Sealdah Station, the shop-assistant at Whiteaway’s, the syce-sahib of Hart Bros.–these gentlemen might be angry with you, and decline to come to your Poojah dinner to drink your champagne, you know. Just think, they mightn’t pat you on the back, when you meet them again!”

“It wouldn’t break my heart,” Nabendu snapped out.

A few days passed. One morning Nabendu was sipping his tea, and glancing at a newspaper. Suddenly a letter signed “X” caught his eye. The writer thanked him profusely for his donation, and declared that the increase of strength the Congress had acquired by having such a man within its fold, was inestimable.

Alas, father Purnendu Sekhar! Was it to increase the strength of the Congress, that you brought this wretch into the world?

Put the cloud of misfortune had its silver lining. That he was not a mere cypher was clear from the fact that the Anglo-Indian community on the one side and the Congress on the other were each waiting patiently, eager to hook him, and land him on their own side. So Nabendu, beaming with pleasure took the paper to his sister-in-law, and showed her the letter. Looking as though she knew nothing about it, Labanya exclaimed in surprise: “Oh, what a pity! Everything has come out! Who bore you such ill-will? Oh, how cruel of him, how wicked of him!”

Nabendu laughed out, saying: ” Now–now—don’t call him names, Labanya. I forgive him with all my heart, and bless him too.”

A couple of days after this, an anti-Congress Anglo-Indian paper reached Nabendu through the post. There was a letter in it, signed “One who knows,” and contradicting the above report. “Those who have the pleasure of Babu Nabendu Sekhar’s personal acquaintance,” the writer went on, “cannot for a moment believe this absurd libel to be true. For him to turn a Congresswalla is as impossible as it is for the leopard to change his spots. He is a man of genuine worth, and neither a disappointed candidate for Government employ nor a briefless barrister. He is not one of those who, after a brief sojourn in England, return aping our dress and manners, audaciously try to thrust themselves on Anglo-Indian society, and finally go back in dejection. So there is absolutely no reason why Balm Nabendu Sekhar,” etc., etc.

Ah, father Purnendu Sekhar! What a reputation you had made with the Europeans before you died!

This letter also was paraded before his sister-in-law, for did it not assert that he was no mean, contemptible scallywag, but a man of real worth?

Labanya exclaimed again in feigned surprise: “Which of your friends wrote it now? Oh, come–is it the Ticket Collector, or the hide merchant, or is it the drum-major of the Fort? “

“You ought to send in a contradiction, I think,” said Nilratan.

“Is it necessary?” said Nabendu loftily. Must I contradict every little thing they choose to say against me? “