The school bus was running. They were going to school in the school bus. Someone started talking about marbles. He was always so interested in marbles that as he listened he began to forget everything. The talking about marbles was so interested and heart touching that he did not control himself. As the advancement of the talking his fervor increased and so motto, he joined in the discussion. Then he forgot completely. Afterwards he did not know how he could have forgotten like that. But perhaps it was not so strange after all, everyone had always said he was very sensitive and absent minded at this tender age. It was a strange quality of him.
The school bus entered into the school campus. It created crushing sound as it rolled on the gravel. It was a familiar sound for them as they were in. There came the termination of their talking. They jumped out with their bags and boxes. At outside he stood waiting for the rest to come down. When the last boy was out, the school bus rolled out of the gates again.
Then they went into school. Someone said that he always liked Saturday because the next day is Sunday. He added and said that there was no day like Saturday. Even class on Saturday was not as bad as on other days. For him Saturday evening had a special liking. Mainly in the evening, he made joke at home with his mother alone as he had lost his father. On other days there was always home work to do and dinner to prepare. But on Saturday they both were free. His mother finished cooking early. He had only a little home to do. Saturday evening meant a lot to him.
Class began at half past eight. As it was Saturday, the class began with reading. Miss Moss reminded the boys of three coloured action postcards on her desk that went every Saturday to the first three boys who read best. It was an exciting period. After the reading class then came Arithmetic. This class was good for him. He was always falling asleep and then having to write fifty lines. Then they had English and that wound up Saturday morning.
He had launched with the boarders and a few other day scholars. He was such a sensitive boy, so that should have made him remember but since the marbles in the bus he had completely forgotten and was so happy. In the afternoon, they had History and Geography and as it was Saturday, they went to upstairs to spend the last hour in the library. There he read a tale about how a clever young prince defeated a man-eating monster and escaped from his clutches. The story was very exciting and comical. He thought he would tell it to his mother when he got home. Then the time came to go home.
He did not take a bus, with the rest of the day scholars this time. He walked it with four other friends of him. They were Ned, Ram, Peter and Gopal. As they walked along the road, with the green and daisy-covered hill on one and the railed off-slope on the other. The sun was bright and warm. They talked and laughed a lot because today was Saturday and tomorrow Sunday. Hi picked up a blade of grass and nibbled at it While Ram slid a ruler along the railing. This evening Ned was going to pictures, Ram was going for ice cream, Peter was going horse riding. Gopal was going to a wedding. As for himself he was happy so happy. He would go home and after a quick wash, there would be a Lemon Pie on the table, with a large slice ready on a plate for him. The thought made him want to hurry.
They had reached the short cut to his home. He bade farewell to them and picked his way down the slope. But just before he started, he heard someone say “But he doesn’t live…!” But he didn’t mind it because as he picked his way down the short cut his mind was so full and happy with the anticipation of home and his mother, the Lemon Pie and the plants in the garden. After a little while, he saw the red roof, bright in the sun grinning wide and happy in the distance. In a little while more he would see the white sides of the house, the curtains flying in the windows and his mother waiting and waving from the kitchen.
But he had not gone very much further, when all of a sudden, clear out of the blue, there was something wrong he could feel it. It began whispering in his ear not to go. He slowed down to a snail’s pace and then came to a dead stop. Then he saw that there were no flying curtains beckoning to him and all the windows were closed, the flowers and plants were growing weak in a pathetic sort of way. All on a sudden he remembered that he was not living there any more but up the hill at his aunt’s house, because his mother had died one week ago leaving him alone. He did not decide what to do. He stood still looking, not knowing anything. His throat became choked. Tears came into his eyes and wanted to cry a lot. But he could only cry quietly.
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