letting an old man talk himself out. It makes him feel that he
is winding up the world, forgetting all the while how far away
the real world is from his wagging tongue.

But even my worst enemy would not accuse me of patience. And
when Chandranath Babu went on to say: "If we expect to gather
fruit where we have sown no seed, then we ..." I had to
interrupt him.

"Who wants fruit?" I cried. "We go by the Author of the Gita
who says that we are concerned only with the doing, not with the
fruit of our deeds."

"What is it then that you do want?" asked Chandranath Babu.

"Thorns!" I exclaimed, "which cost nothing to plant."

"Thorns do not obstruct others only," he replied. "They have a
way of hurting one's own feet."

"That is all right for a copy-book," I retorted. "But the real
thing is that we have this burning at heart. Now we have only to
cultivate thorns for other's soles; afterwards when they hurt us
we shall find leisure to repent. But why be frightened even of
that? When at last we have to die it will be time enough to get
cold. While we are on fire let us seethe and boil."

Chandranath Babu smiled. "Seethe by all means," he said, "but do
not mistake it for work, or heroism. Nations which have got on
in the world have done so by action, not by ebullition. Those