“Thou wert hungry, and thy children were crying for food; but Zālim Sing had no such excuse--he is a shaitan, the son of a she ass. Thou shalt take his place, and come after me; thou shalt live here now with thy children. Surely a strong man, with a lathi, is better than an aged chokedar and a dog! I may be robbed again; with thee I am safe; for doubtless thou wilt guard thine own. Let the old hag remain in thine hut, and bring thy children hither.” So, to the amazement of the village, Chūnnee, the pauper and the prisoner, was elevated to the right hand of the richest man in Paroor, and rose proportionately in every one’s estimation. He tilled the land, and sold the crops, and cut the cane, whilst Girunda spent his time between the fields and the village munshi--as befitted a boy who would rise in the world, and perchance go to college! His grand-uncle was proud of him, and never tired of boasting of Girunda’s seventy-mile march with his sister on his back. Gyannia now wears a gold nose-ring, silver bangles, and a chain--which gauds comprise most of her toilette. She is a happy infant, and passes her four sallow cousins in the narrowest lane, with her head in the air. Her cousins and their father have resorted to every description of clever intrigue to get on terms with their lucky relatives, but in vain. It is the dream of Zālim Sing’s life to bestow one of his sallow daughters in marriage on Girunda, and thus keep the fortune in the family; but it is not probable that the boy--who retains a lively recollection of the ladies’ nips and blows and floutings--will ever meet his wishes. Moreover, Turroo has already a bride in view. The cat prospers, though as lanky and grimy as of old; she must be a cat of some breeding, or of Chinese extraction, for when, after all her vicissitudes, she found herself once more in her native village, she did not exhibit the least surprise--she merely stretched out her long body, and strolled over and sharpened her claws in the bark of a familiar tree. She has accepted the transformation from poverty to wealth with complete equanimity, and sits washing her face outside Turroo’s door, or surveys the village from the tree that grows through his roof, as if she had never lived elsewhere; she has also implanted a wholesome fear of her displeasure in the breast of Chondi the pariah. But then she is a cat who has travelled and seen the world, and he is but a common village cur! Who would recognize Chūnnee Sing now? He wears a handsome turban, and coolies salaam to him, and address him as “ap.” He rides on a white horse--yes, a horse, not a pony--with a long pink tail, and is the leading man in those parts; for all he takes in hand appears to thrive.