Sita was only a child but she was very miserable. The other little girls she knew romped and played about, but she had to work hard and to bear blows and many other kinds of cruelty. She did not know why this was, but she could remember a time long before--at least it seemed long before--when people were kind to her, and she could play and romp about too. Even in her dim memory of these days one person had been unkind to her. An old man who had shaken her and told her to be quick and grow up that she might work for him. But one day he died, and Sita was very glad. Only she was not allowed to be glad long, for the others in the house came round her and told her that she had killed him, and from that time they ill-treated her terribly. She had to draw and carry all the water that was needed for washing and cooking; and a great deal was required, for there were nine people in the house. Sometimes she was terribly tired, and it seemed as if she could not draw up one bucketful more of water. One day, when she was ten years old, she was more tired than ever, and she sat down for a little by the well, while happy careless women drew up their bucketfuls and put them gaily on their heads. They looked bright in their cotton robes, and their hearts were bright too for they sang little songs as they clustered round the well. Sita thought there was a kind look in the face of one woman who came, and she said to her, “Will you not draw a little water for me, the well is so deep, and I am tired and ill?” The woman started back from the little brown figure with the tattered clothes and the shaven head. “Widow!” she said. Then she cursed Sita and told her that she had done her harm by letting her shadow fall on her, and that she would have to take a bath before she could eat; and then she cursed her again. The child looked up in surprise. She did not know what all this meant. The tears were in her eyes, and the woman, with a touch of pity, stopped a moment, when she was safely out of reach of Sita’s shadow, and asked:-- “Why should I help you when the gods have cursed you? See, you are a widow.” But Sita only gazed at her. “Don’t you understand? Did you not have a husband once?” “Yes, I think so, the old bad man who used to shake me.” “You call him bad?” “No wonder the gods hate you. You must have been very bad once. So now you are a widow, and by and bye you will be a toad or a snake.” Then the woman lifted her water-pots and hurried away. Sita hastened too for she knew she had stayed too long, and when she reached the house she was so tired that she nearly fell, but instead of a cool drink or kind words her sister-in-law burned her arms and hands with a hot poker because she did not go to work quickly enough and the little one had to labour on through all her pain.