"'I have nothing but water or milk to offer you,' answered Meeta, whose face was become as white as the cloth she held in her hand.
"'It does not matter,' said the woman; 'we have other business here besides satisfying our thirst; it was you, was it not, that told the hostess of the inn below that your uncle found a purse of gold and put it by? The purse is ours, we lost it near this place; we are come to claim it.'
"'Yes,' said the man, advancing a step or two towards Meeta; 'it is ours, and we must have it.'
"'My uncle,' answered the trembling girl, 'is not at home; I cannot give you the purse.'
"'You can't?' replied the man; 'we will see to that, young mistress; we knew your uncle was out when we came here, else we had not come; but we heard you say that you could tell, as well as he could, where he put the purse; if you do not do it willingly, we will make you.'
"Meeta began to declare and profess most solemnly that she did not know where the keys were kept; indeed, she believed that her grandmother had taken them away in her pocket.
"The fierce man used such language as Meeta had never heard before; and the woman, laying her heavy hand on her shoulder, gave her a terrible shake.
"'Tell us,' said she, 'where is the chest into which the
purse was put, or I will throw you on the ground and trample you under my feet.'
"Meeta, in her excessive terror, uttered two or three fearful shrieks; and would, no doubt, have gone on shrieking, if the horrible people had not threatened to silence her voice for ever.