I was repelled by all I had seen, and felt like weeping as I heard the mournful cries of the women. We were more blessed than they were, because we had lost nothing, for the best of reasons. My instinct told me it were better to go away than to remain any longer. Our new mama seemed to have the same feeling, for without a word she took each of us by the hand and we went out through the big gate, whither we knew not. One direction was as good to us as another, so we took the first road we saw. We wandered on for a number of days, sleeping at night by the roadside, and during the days stopped where cartmen were feeding their cattle. They allowed us to pick up some grains of feed, which was the bread of heaven to us. One day toward evening we came to a large peepul tree with a small hut beside it. An old man, a faqir, was sitting in front of the hut. Something told him we were hungry, and going inside he brought out a few withered bananas and several dried fruits. He told us to eat them, and when he prepared his food he would give us some. I expressed my gratitude as best I could. I think I said that I hoped Allah would show him mercy. The old man gave me such a kindly smile, the first I had ever seen. We were all very weary, and the little sister was footsore. I went out to where some carts had stopped and gathered several armfuls of dried grass and straw, which I placed at the back of the hut. The old faqir, seeing this, went into his little garden and brought a square of bamboo, thatched with grass, that he placed over the straw with its top against the hut. What a house we had; a palace, furnished, for our wearied bodies. Into this we crept, for our new mama was always beside us. We slept—and such sleep! I dreamed of great dishes of food, how fragrant it was and how delicious it tasted, when we were awakened by the voice of the faqir calling us to come out and eat. We did not wait for a second call, and such dishes of rice and dhal, steaming hot and so fragrant. We ate as if we had not tasted food for many a day, and indeed we had but little for months. The old faqir smiled all over his wrinkled face as he saw the eagerness with which we ate his savory dishes. If I know anything about the matter—and probably I know as much as any one—I feel sure that the good angel above, who does the recording, gave the old faqir three very long credit marks for the good he did to each of us that day. He scarcely said a word. No doubt his motto was, “Doing—not talking,” and the very best habit one can fall into. After an hour or so of resting from our laborious task of eating so much, we crept into our little house and were all soon fast asleep. I dreamt that I saw my mama. She was looking with those large liquid eyes of hers, not to the westward, but toward us. She smiled so sweetly, the first smile I had ever seen upon her face, as she saw how comfortably we were placed.