Her grandmother, whom you doubtless remember,
is not like the ignorant women of these parts. She has learning." And
again he repeated, as if desirous of thoroughly convincing me as to the
satisfactory nature of the transaction, "Certainly she was not sold. She
is a relative of my own."

A relative of his own! And he could teach his school outside those
walls, and know what was going on inside, and never raise a finger to
stop it, educated Hindu though he is. I could not understand it.

He seemed quite concerned at my concern, but explained that for
generations one of that particular household had always been devoted to
the gods. The practice could not be defended; it was the custom. That
was all. "Our custom."

A stone's-throw from his door is another child who is living a strangely
unnatural life, which strikes no one as unnatural because it is "our
custom." She is quite a little girl, and as playful as a kitten. Her
soft round arms and little dimpled hands looked fit for no harder work
than play, but she was pounding rice when I saw her, and looked tired,
and as if she wanted her mother.

While I was with her a very old man hobbled in. He was crippled, and
leaned full weight with both hands on his stick. He seemed asthmatic
too, and coughed and panted woefully. A withered, decrepit old ghoul.
The child stood up when he came in and touched her neck where the
marriage symbol lay. Then I knew he was her husband.

"What,
No blush at the avowal--you dared to buy
A girl of age beseems your grand-daughter, like ox or ass?
_Are flesh and blood ware? are heart and soul a chattel?_"

Yes! like chattels they are sold to the highest bidder. In that auction
Caste comes first, then wealth and position. And the chattel is bought,
the bit of breathing flesh and blood is converted into property; and the
living, throbbing heart of the child may be trampled and stamped down
under foot in the mire and the mud of that market-place, for all anyone
cares.

It is not long since a young wife came for refuge to our house. Three
times she had tried to kill herself; at last she fled to us. Her husband
came. "Get up, slave," he said, as she crouched on the floor. She would
not stir or speak. Then he got her own people to come, and then it was
as if a pent-up torrent was bursting out of an over full heart. "You
gave me to him. You gave me to him." The words came over and o