Chapter II.
A group of little girls are seen at a well in the backyard of Kashinath Punt’s house in the city. Their brass pots are laid down on the stony pavement that surrounds the well. There is apparently an animated conversation going on, and the gestures of the girls indicate suppressed excitement. A rippling How of laughter now and then breaks forth from the girls as they talk in the fulness of youthful spirits. We want you to make up the number seven.”
“Are there not seven sisters among the stars, seven daughters of the King? and we are seven now,” said one with a side glance and a twinkle in her eyes.”
“Seven demons of misfortune, seven plagues, rather,” said another, laughing. “Why, Indra himself was afraid of the number seven, and so Arjuna was created to make up the eighth.”
“Stop your learned nonsense. You know nothing of Arjuna nor of Varuna,” said the shastri’s daughter. “I tell you I know all about it,” maintained Harni, the one contradicted. By the bye, have you seen the sanyasi’s daughter Kamala? Ramakrishna Punt’s daughter, Kashi, brought her to our house.”
“I see Kamala is the great friend now, and Kashi shows off the girl wherever she goes,” said another girl, with a smile of disdain and a proud curl on her lip.
“The way in which she petted the little minx and put flowers in her hair was most provoking. She kept on saying to us the whole evening that Kamala was so sweet, and had no mother, and so on. I think she would like to play the mother herself.”
“Ha! Ha! Ha! To play the mother-in-law rather,” laughed the other girls. “You have a brother, haven’t you–studying somewhere? just the thing.”
“She for my brother! Why, I wouldn’t tolerate her a day in the house,” was Gungi’s reply. “Good looks! why, Kamala has no good looks. My father thinks much of the old man though. Poor man! They say he was very rich once but nobody knows.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” said Gungi, with a toss of her head. Then lifting her vessel, which was already filled with water, she placed it on her side and returned home. The other girls laughed at this outburst of ill-temper, and then taking up their own vessels they returned home as solemnly as if they had never met before.
****
It is evening—one of those evenings very common in mountainous places, where the sunlight lingers on the tops of the hills loath to depart, while the world around is growing dark. The stars are beginning to peep out from the wide expanse of sky overhead. Kamala is alone among the trees, between whose gnarled trunks she catches glimpses of the western horizon. The brown stones and bare rocks around seem to increase in size mysteriously in the deepening twilight, and the rustling of the trees appears ominous to her superstitious mind. She looks at the deserted scene around her and trembles. To her simple mind each tree has its mysterious occupant, and though naturally brave, she is a little timid on this occasion, as she had never before strayed so far away from home.
“Da