"See, isn't he well made?" she said. "Look at his limbs. Feel his smooth skin! How tall! how proud he is and how strong. He will be the father of many sons."
"Have you the bride as well?"
"She has to live with her people at present. Her home is in the datura bush. She wears a saree of pure white satin and she hangs her head with beautiful modesty. Sister!" Mayita's eyes surveyed the room with approval. "We will have the wedding here. The astrologer will soon be back from the south, and I am sure that his visit to the temple will have made matters smooth. We shall be able to decorate the place and lay out the feast. I will bring my silver pots and china dishes to-morrow and we will hide them behind your husband's boxes. Oh, how delightful it will be! What a wedding we will have!"
Mayita's eyes sparkled, and the beautiful brown tones of her skin were enriched as the warm blood coursed through her veins. In spite of her shaven head and coarse garment, her youth and comeliness asserted themselves. She babbled on about the wedding, the difficulties that had occurred over the dower as well as the horoscope, the number of guests to be invited, and other details to which Dorama listened, her hand over the hidden glove, her thoughts wandering back into the past when there was another wedding less nebulous than that of Mayita's devising, and she herself was the bride. A call outside checked the flow of description, and Mayita rose quickly to her feet.
"It is my brother. Come to the entrance of the yard while I ask him for news; and listen."
Bopaul in the customary manner of a caste man, stood a little way off waiting for his sister to join him.
"What news of Ananda?" asked the child, stopping in the entrance and calling to him.
"They have none."
"Where is he?"
"They still speak of the well; but I do not believe that he is dead. Come, little one, it is time we returned."