Bishamber carried him in his arms, and took him into the inner
apartments. When his wife saw him, she exclaimed; "What a heap of
trouble this boy has given us. Hadn't you better send him home ?"
Phatik heard her words, and sobbed out loud: "Uncle, I was just
going home; but they dragged me back again,"
The fever rose very high, and all that night the boy was delirious.
Bishamber brought in a doctor. Phatik opened his eyes flushed with
fever, and looked up to the ceiling, and said vacantly: "Uncle, have the
holidays come yet? May I go home?"
Bishamber wiped the tears from his own eyes, and took Phatik's lean and
burning hands in his own, and sat by him through the night. The boy
began again to mutter. At last his voice became excited: "Mother," he
cried, "don't beat me like that! Mother! I am telling the truth!"
The next day Phatik became conscious for a short time. He turned his
eyes about the room, as if expecting some one to come. At last, with an
air of disappointment, his head sank back on the pillow. He turned his
face to the wall with a deep sigh.
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