does, and he treated the poor girl with something worse than coldness. Maini, however, bore her hard lot without a murmur, hoping that time and patience would win back her husband's heart.
On returning one evening from the fields, Ramzán was hailed by his mother who was evidently in a worse temper than usual.
"Hi! Ramzán," she shrieked, "I am an old woman, and you, doubtless, find me an incumbrance. Speak out, my son; you have only to say 'go,' and I will leave this house in half an hour."
"Why, what's the matter, mother?" asked Ramzán with open eyes.
"Matter," she yelled. "Would you believe it, that black-faced daughter of a pig has actually abused me—me, your old mother!"
"What did she say?" rejoined Ramzán angrily.
"My son," was the answer, "you know how she neglects household duties, leaving all the hard jobs to me. Well, this afternoon, I ventured on a word of remonstrance, and she actually abused me." And the old woman wiped her tears away with a corner of her cotton wrapper, adding with eyes cast heavenwards, "Merciful Allah, to think that I should come to this in my old age!"
"But what did she say?" repeated Ramzán wearily.
