Even Grandfather realised that. We were not well-to-do, and could not afford the frequent loss of dishes, clothes,
curtains and wall paper. So Grandfather found the Tonga-driver and sold Toto back to him – for only three rupees.
The poor man was taken aback; but, with great presence of mind and much to Grandfather’s annoyance, he said,
“Sir, you have a dog with you. You’ll have to pay for it accordingly.”
His presence in the house still a secret, Toto was now transferred to a big cage in the servants’ quarters.
There a number of Grandfather’s pets lived very sociably together – a tortoise, a pair of rabbits, a tame squirrel
and, for a while, my pet goat.
“I want that burfi,” he slowly murmured.
But he half knew as he begged that his plea would not be heeded because his parents would say he was greedy.
So, without waiting for an answer, he moved on.
“Come, child,” called his parents, as he lagged behind, fascinated by the toys in the shops that lined the way.
He hurried towards his parents, his feet obedient to their call, his eyes still lingering on the receding toys.