her finger, she showed it to the widow with an injured expression, as much as to say: Look at the effect of having a person like you in the house! Her services were not urgently needed in the kitchen where many hands made light work; and it frequently happened to her to be ordered out of the room. She wandered away in listless fashion, aware that wherever she went her presence would be unwelcome. Only one spot seemed free to her, and this was because it was deserted by all others. The small room formerly occupied by her husband was always empty, and thither she was drawn by memory and association. At first she merely sat upon the mat and brooded, looking out of the open door at the forest-clad mountain with eyes that saw nothing of its beauty in line or colour. On the third day she noticed that the dust had accumulated, and that the dead jasmin blossoms remained just where they had fallen. She went out into the compound and gathered a bunch of twigs with which she swept out the room. In so doing she discovered a glove that had belonged to her husband. She recognised it as his and, picking it up, she kissed it passionately. Once, not so very long ago, it had been a covering to his dear hand. He had worn it in that far-off smoky city of the west, and the strange scent still clung to it. When she had finished her self-appointed task, she seated herself on the mat to indulge in the pleasure of gloating over her treasure; and to devise a secure hiding place for it in the fold of her saree. A dozen times it was hidden and brought out again to be fondled and gazed at, to be tenderly nursed like a baby on her arm. She was startled by the sound of a footfall. Hastily thrusting her treasure into her saree she looked up and saw Mayita. "Ah, dear sister. How good it is to meet again! My brother caught sight of you as he walked through the compound, and he sent me to talk to you while he goes to the house to ask for news of your husband." "There is no news," replied Dorama sadly. "Not yet; but there will be soon," replied Mayita confidently. The child entered the room and glanced round with approval. "You have swept it and made it tidy. Does any one come here?" "Not that I know of," replied Dorama, her hand slipping under the folds of her cloth to close secretly over the glove. "Then it is ours for the present, ours! sister! Think how delightful! Widows are not allowed to possess anything, so they say! But listen, I will tell you a secret now that you are my sister. They think I have nothing, nothing in this big world; but I have lots of treasures. I am rich. I have silver pots and golden cups and china dishes. Sometimes they are filled with oranges and mangoes, pomegranates and mangosteens. I have jewels and silk sarees----" "What are you talking about, child!" cried Dorama staring at her in astonishment. "Hush, speak low, and I will show you some diamonds. They are the dower of a bride in a marriage I am making."