The Bengali salaamed carelessly and replied:

"Oah, yess, sir. I am B.A."

"Really? What is your name?" asked Dermot.

"Narain Dass, sir."

"I am sorry, Mr. Dass, that a man of your education cannot get better
employment than this," remarked Dermot.

The Bengali smiled superciliously.

"Oah, yess, I can, of course. This--" He checked himself suddenly, and his
manner became more cringing. "Yess, sir, I can with much facility procure
employment of sedentary nature. But for reasons of health I am stringently
advised by medical practitioner to engage in outdoor occupation. So I adopt
policy of 'Back to the Land.'"

"I see, Mr. Dass. Very wise of you," remarked Dermot, restraining an
inclination to smile. "You are a Brahmin, aren't you?"

"Yess, sir," replied the Bengali with pride.

"Well, Mr. Dass, I hope that your health will improve in this bracing air.
Good-morning."

"Good-morning, sir," replied the Bengali, and continued on his way.

Dermot watched his departing figure meditatively. He felt that he had got