and small-footed. They bear themselves in
walking as though they were of birth and descent. They commune with
themselves, walking up and down. Their lips move. This is on account of
their dead. They are never abashed or at a loss for words. They forget
nothing. Nothing either do they forgive."

MOTHER. Good. Very good. That is the right honour.

SON. Listen! He says: "Each village keeps a written account of all that
the enemy has done against it. If a life--a life, whether it be man or
priest, or hostage, or woman or babe. Every horn driven off; and every
feather; all bricks and tiles broken, all things burned, and their
price, are written in the account. The shames and the insults are also
written. There is no price set against them."

FATHER. This is without flaw! This is a people! There is never any
price for shame offered. And they write it all down. Marvellous!

SON. Yes. He says: "Each village keeps its own tally and all tallies go
to their Government to be filed. The whole of the country of France is
in one great account against the enemy--for the loss, for the lives,
and for the shames done. It has been kept from the first. The women
keep it with the men. All French women read, write, and cast accounts
from youth. By this they are able to keep the great account against the
enemy. I think that it is good that our girls should get schooling like
this. Then we shall have no more confusion in our accounts. It is only
to add up the sums lost and the lives. We should teach our girls. We
are fools compared with these people."

MOTHER. But a Pathani girl remembers without all this book-work. It is
waste. Who of any decent descent ever forgot a blood-debt? He must be
sickening for illness to write thus.

FATHER. One should not forget. Yet we depend on songs and tales. It is
more secure--certainly, it is more business-like--that a written
account should be kept. Since it is the men who must pay off the debt,
why should not the women keep it?

MOTHER. They can keep tally on a stick or a distaff. It is unnecessary
for a girl to scribble in books. They never come to good ends. They end
by----

SON. Sometimes, my mother, sometimes. On the Government side of the
Border, women are taught to read, and write, and cast accounts, and----

MOTHER [_with intention_]. Far be the day when such an one is brought
to _my_ house as a bride. For _I_ say----

FATHER. No matter. What does _he_ say about those French women?

SON.