who have always lain in dread of work, when with a start they
awake to their sorry plight, they look to short-cuts and scamping
for their deliverance."

I was girding up my loins to deliver a crushing reply, when
Nikhil came back. Chandranath Babu rose, and looking towards
Bee, said: "Let me go now, my little mother, I have some work to
attend to."

As he left, I showed Nikhil the book in my hand. "I was telling
Queen Bee about this book," I said.

Ninety-nine per cent of people have to be deluded with lies, but
it is easier to delude this perpetual pupil of the schoolmaster
with the truth. He is best cheated openly. So, in playing with
him, the simplest course was to lay my cards on the table.

Nikhil read the title on the cover, but said nothing. "These
writers," I continued, "are busy with their brooms, sweeping away
the dust of epithets with which men have covered up this world of
ours. So, as I was saying, I wish you would read it."

"I have read it," said Nikhil.

"Well, what do you say?"

"It is all very well for those who really care to think, but
poison for those who shirk thought."

"What do you mean?"