stood in the veranda, it occurred to him that if he pulled away some
of the rough cocoanut material, he might leave a place where a
serpent could come into the house and scare Pidura. It would be good
enough for her, he thought; and not pausing to reason about the
consequences of his action, he pulled away the rough material till
he left quite a space undefended. He did not believe that Padura
would notice it.

He could see her, busy in the kitchen, which is a house separate
from a Cingalese dwelling. Her plump, pleasant face bent over the
fire, and then again she turned away, her light jacket and striped
skirt vanishing toward another corner of the kitchen. Comale half
laughed as he thought how scared she would be if a little serpent
should find the opening he had made. Then he ran away.

But now, since beginning his day's work, his quarrel and the
possible consequences of his misdeed had begun to weigh heavily on
Comale's conscience, and had lent an accusing tongue to nature. So
true is it that a guilty conscience finds censure where a heart that
is at peace with God and man would find no reproving reminder.

Comale could not go home till nightfall, and all day his worry
increased. Why had he done so wicked a thing? The quarrel over the
trouble about the rice looked so little, now! If a poisonous snake
should find that opening, and should creep in, and strike his
mother, or Pidura, or the little brother, or, the baby! It was
dreadful to think of! Why had he blindly followed his anger? Had he
not often heard that he who would be a Christian must forgive
others? Instead of forgiving Pidura, he had done something that
perhaps might kill her.