"I hear nothing and I see nobody but the sweeper. Bring me news if there is anything important to tell," said Ananda, trying in vain to hide the sudden anxiety that sprang up as he heard that the child was not well. "I will," answered Bopaul, with a note of sympathy in his voice. He stopped to turn back towards his own house, and Ananda passed on with downcast troubled eyes that failed to see how his friend stood watching him. "Poor fellow!" thought Bopaul. "They are making it very hard for him; but it is only what he might have expected. There is more grit and endurance in him than I expected. I thought he would have given in by this time. Pantulu Iyer's brother has met his match, and he won't step into Ananda's shoes quite as easily as he thought." The following morning Ananda arrived at the college, and was in his place punctually to the strike of the clock. The bell rang but without response. A strange silence prevailed in the college close, in the hall and in the class rooms. Not a boy was visible. The masters were in their places and the Principal in cap and gown on the platform ready to begin his lecture. He waited a short time and then went to the Vice-principal's room, a native who had taken a good degree at Cambridge. "Where are all the boys?" asked Wenaston, in some bewilderment. "Is it a public festival?" The Vice-principal paused before replying. "I am afraid, sir, that they are purposely absenting themselves," he said, reluctantly. He had a great regard for his chief, and it went against the grain to say anything that might give him pain. "Can you tell me the reason?" "Because you have appointed the son of Pantulu Iyer as a master in the school." "Does the feeling run so strongly against him that they can carry it to this pitch?" replied Wenaston in some indignation. "It is no concern of theirs what religion he professes. His opinions are a personal matter as long as he keeps them to himself. Did he mention the subject to his class yesterday?" "No, sir," the Vice-principal answered promptly. "Then it is outrageous that he should be ostracised in this manner." Wenaston had been haunted by the dread of something of the kind ever since he had acceded to Alderbury's request; but he had not anticipated that it would come so soon, nor in such a practical form as a strike. The utmost he had expected was an inquiry on the part of the Government authorities, followed by a recommendation that the appointment should be cancelled. "The sympathy in the town is all on the side of Ananda's parents. You hardly realise, sir, what an appalling disaster it is for a high caste Hindu to lose a son in this way," remarked Wenaston's colleague. "You talk of him as if he were dead!" "It would have been less of a disaster if he had died in the Hindu faith before he became a Christian."