"Yes it is! Yes it is!" and the boy danced off in the direction of the sitting figure, kicking up the dust with his bare feet in his eagerness to reach the side of the old lady who always had some sweet for him hidden away in her bag. His mother followed after him and several other people, also, who had come from their homes at his familiar call.
"Why, it is Old Sarah, sure enough! What can be the matter with her?" exclaimed the woman to a neighbour as they approached.
The exclamation was not unnatural, for the usually active old lady who, unwearied, had come trudging into their village week after week, after a walk of five miles, now sat all bent over on the ground with her sari-covered head bowed upon her arms.
The noise of the little crowd as it drew near aroused the old woman, who, letting the sari slide back from a head well sprinkled with gray, raised to them a face white and drawn. The people were astounded, for never in their acquaintance had she shown them aught but a face full of life and joy. Now she looked weak and haggard.
"I am sick," she said, answering the unasked question which she saw in their faces. "You are my good friends; so I came to you for help."
"Oh, let me help her!" cried one.
"Bring her to my house!" called another.
"I will care for her myself," said the child's mother as several women stepped up to raise the old woman to her feet.
They had helped her along some little way and the children were following close behind or crowding ahead to tell the rest of the villagers, when the head man met them.
Looking at the old woman, he said sharply, "What is the matter with her?"