Father's eyes twinkled as he added, "Mind, no more flights from
home!"

I set forth with the zest of my twelve years (though time has
never dimmed my delight in new scenes and strange faces). Reaching
Benares, I proceeded immediately to the swami's residence. The
front door was open; I made my way to a long, hall-like room on
the second floor. A rather stout man, wearing only a loincloth, was
seated in lotus posture on a slightly raised platform. His head and
unwrinkled face were clean-shaven; a beatific smile played about
his lips. To dispel my thought that I had intruded, he greeted me
as an old friend.

"BABA ANAND (bliss to my dear one)." His welcome was given heartily
in a childlike voice. I knelt and touched his feet.

"Are you Swami Pranabananda?"

He nodded. "Are you Bhagabati's son?" His words were out before I
had had time to get Father's letter from my pocket. In astonishment,
I handed him the note of introduction, which now seemed superfluous.

"Of course I will locate Kedar Nath Babu for you." The saint again
surprised me by his clairvoyance. He glanced at the letter, and
made a few affectionate references to my parent.

"You know, I am enjoying two pensions. One is by the recommendation
of your father, for whom I once worked in the railroad office. The