Baba was leaving for Europe. As soon as she got on the boat the abscess broke and the swelling subsided.
This last evening, Baba had turned to me rather reproachfully and said, "Why did you not tell me sooner?" I explained that I thought he did not have time for this trouble and he replied, "In future always tell me of anything that goes wrong."
Jenny reminded me quite recently when I was in Montreal, in 1963, of her first meeting with Baba. "It is as vivid today as it was thirty years back. Baba told me to sit perfectly still in front of him for three minutes and he held the watch in front of him. Neither was to speak. When the time was up and he told me to go, I didn't want to and started to cry! His wonderful eyes and their expression I have never forgotten."
With Baba, the few minutes wait before departure are of equal importance as the first minutes of arrival. Baba was to have left at 9 A.M. for Victoria Station en route to Paris. However, Meredith was late at arriving. Baba called my Mother and when she was seated he asked her if she had anything on her mind. She replied that she felt she must be very wicked as she enjoyed a game of cards with a little gamble in it for money. Baba smiled, spelled out on his board — "I like you — you are so honest" and told her to go on playing cards just as she was doing now.
Half an hour later Meredith Starr arrived. Baba sent the rest of us direct to the station with the luggage while he, Chanji, Ali and Meredith went off to Cook's and then on to Victoria Station. There were many friends assembled to see Baba off. Goodbyes are always rather sad with Baba. All try to smile, look happy and content just to please Baba — while he repeats with signs, Chanji interpreting, that we must not worry, keep writing often, go on loving him more and more and that he would be back in the early spring — which he was!
The whistle blew and the conductor changed the red light to green. The train moved, imperceptibly at first — as only the old fashioned steam-engine express can do — and we continued to wave until the platform curved and the train was lost to view.
Two months elapsed before we met Baba again — still in the year 1931. To keep alive that spark of divine love kindled during those twenty days in London and East Challacombe and knowing our many human weaknesses, Baba kept us well posted with letters — individual and collective — concerning his movements; always reminding us how much he loved us all.