Binodini, as she took them away from him. "You're only making extra work for me."
"Very well then," said Mahendra. "You go on with your work. I'll watch and learn." He came and sat on the floor in front of the wardrobe, while she went on putting away the clothes one after another, now and then playfully dusting some of them on his back.
Thus began the anticipated meeting, but there were none of the inspiring accompaniments which Mahendra's imagination had been conjuring up around it. Still he was not ill-pleased; on the contrary he felt rather relieved. Mahendra had had no definite idea how to act up to the ideal meeting of his fancy, what should be the setting, what the conversation, how high-flown the tone, how, in short, the commonplace could be effectively and thoroughly avoided. Amidst the ordinary badinage arising out of the folding of clothes, he felt rescued from an impossible phantasmagoria of his own creation.
At this stage Rajlakshmi appeared on the scene. "What's keeping you here, my son?" asked she. "Binodini is attending to your clothes."
"Just look at him, Pishima," appealed Binodini. "He's getting in the way, and delaying my work."
"What nonsense!" retorted Mahendra. "I was assisting her."
"My fate!" ejaculated Rajlakshmi. "You assist!—D'you know, my child," she continued, turning to Binodini, "poor Mahin was always like this. He's been so used to being petted by his mother and aunt, he can't do a thing himself." With which the proud mother beamed affectionately on her helpless son.
How this overgrown boy in leading-strings could be kept at the highest pitch of comfort, was Rajlakshmi's one subject of conversation with Binodini. She was immensely relieved and happy to be able to rely on Binodini in this matter. She was happier than ever to find that Mahendra was coming to appreciate Binodini, and was taking pains to induce her to stay on. With the idea of further impressing Mahendra, she said: "You've done airing Mahin's winter clothes to-day, my dear; you'd better embroider his initials on his handkerchiefs to-morrow. I'm so sorry to be making you slave like this while you're with us, instead of looking after you as I ought."
"If you talk like that, Pishima," protested Binodini, "I'll know that you look on me as a stranger."
"O my little mother!" Rajlakshmi burst out, "where have I got anybody more my own than you are!"
When Binodini had quite done with the clothes, Rajlakshmi suggested: "Shall we get on with that syrup for the cakes, or have you anything else to keep you?"
"What else could I have Pishima?" said Binodini. "Let's finish the cakes now."
"Weren't you just now apologising, mother, for making her slave," said Mahendra. "And now you're again dragging her away to work!"
"You forget that this little Jewel of a girl of ours loves to work," said Rajlakshmi, affectionately touching Binodini under the chin.
"I've nothing to do this evening and was thinking of reading something with our Eyesore," said Mahendra.
"That's a good idea, Pishima," said Binodini. "Let's both come up this evening and get brother Mahin to read to us—wouldn't you like that?"
"Poor Mahin feels so lonely,—we must all try to divert him," thought Rajlakshmi. So she replied: "Certainly, after we've made Some nice cakes for Mahin, we'll come up and listen to his reading. What d'you say, Mahin?"
Binodini shot a rapid glance at Mahendra. "All right," said he, but his enthusiasm had vanished.
Binodini left the room with Rajlakshmi. Mahendra was thoroughly put out. "I'll get away too," he decided, "and then come home late." And he immediately proceeded to dress[1] himself to go out. But his resolve did not get carried out. He began to pace the terrace, every now and then glancing at the doorway leading to the stairs, and after a while came back to his room and sat down. "I won't touch those wretched cakes," repeated he to himself. "I'll teach mother that syrup boiled too long loses its sweetness."
When sending up Mahendra's refreshments Binodini brought Rajlakshmi along
- ↑ The home-dress consists of one piece of cloth draped from waist downwards—the going-out dress consists of that and another upper-cloth or scarf—in addition to the tunic, which last, varies in quality with the occasion.
