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The box after all was Ramesh's property, not her own; she was. not its sole owner and it was not at her unquestioned disposal; she could only regard it as a responsibility.

"You're very quiet," remarked Ramesh, entering the cabin; "did you find a ghost in the box when you opened it?"

"This is yours," said Kamala, holding the cash-box out to him.

"What am I to do with it?" he asked.

"You have only to tell me when you need anything and I'll have it fetched for you."

"But won't you need anything yourself?"

"I don't want any money," answered Kamala, with a slight toss of her head.

Ramesh smiled. "It's not many people who can say as much! However, if you value it so little why not make a present of it to a stranger? Why give it to me of all people?"

Without a word Kamala laid the cash-box on the floor.

"Now just tell me the truth, Kamala," Ramesh went on, "are you annoyed because I didn't tell you the end of that story?"

"I'm not annoyed," replied Kamala, with her eyes on the ground.

Ramesh. "All right then, stick to that box. If you do that I'll know you're telling the truth."

Kamala. "I don't see the connection. It's your property, and you ought to keep it."

Ramesh. "But it isn't mine! People who take back gifts become ghosts when they die. Do you think I want to be a ghost?"

The idea of Ramesh as a ghost tickled Kamala and she could not restrain her laughter.

"Certainly not! Do people who take back gifts really become ghosts? I never heard that" Hostili-