two
brothers. She was in daily fear that he would either drown Makhan some
day in the river, or break his head in a fight, or run him into some
danger or other. At the same time she was somewhat distressed to see
Phatik's extreme eagerness to get away.

Phatik, as soon as all was settled, kept asking his uncle every minute
when they were to start. He was on pins and needles all day long with
excitement, and lay awake most of the night. He bequeathed to Makhan,
in perpetuity, his fishing-rod, his big kite and his marbles. Indeed, at
this time of departure his generosity towards Makhan was unbounded.

When they reached Calcutta, Phatik made the acquaintance of his aunt
for the first time. She was by no means pleased with this unnecessary
addition to her family. She found her own three boys quite enough
to manage without taking any one else. And to bring a village lad of
fourteen into their midst was terribly upsetting. Bishamber should
really have thought twice before committing such an indiscretion.

In this world of human affairs there is no worse nuisance than a boy
at the age of fourteen. He is neither ornamental, nor useful. It is
impossible to shower affection on him as on a little boy; and he is
always getting in the way. If he talks with a childish lisp he is called
a baby, and if he answers in a grown-up way he is called impertinent.
In fact any talk at all from him is resented. Then he is at the
unattractive, growing age. He grows out of his clothes with indecent
haste; his voice grows hoarse and breaks and quavers; his face grows
suddenly angular and unsightly. It is easy to excuse the shortcomings of
early childhood, but it is hard to tolerate even unavoidable lapses in a
boy of fourteen. The lad himself becomes painfully self-conscious. When
he talks with elderly people he is either unduly forward, or else so
unduly shy that he appears ashamed of his very existence.

Yet it is at this very age when in his heart of hearts a young lad most
craves for recognition and love; and he becomes the devoted slave of any
one who shows him consideration. But none dare openly love him, for that
would be regarded as undue indulgence, and therefore bad for the boy.
So, what with scolding and chiding, he becomes very much like a stray
dog that has lost his master.

For a boy of fourteen his own home is the only Paradise. To live in a
strange house with strange people is little short of torture, while the
height of bliss