Her face was thin and wan, her cheeks were hollow, and her eyes had a suppressed look of uneasiness.
The old man remained quietly indifferent as long as the meal lasted; then he rose, peeped cautiously into the outer apartment, resumed his seat, and spoke in a low tone,-- "Is it true that you have listened to kamonyitza,--'black corn' ?" The woman started.

"Who says so ?" she answered with sudden haste.
"The Koshare," replied the old man, looking at her with a cold steady gaze.
"What do I care for them," exclaimed his daughter.

Her lips curled with an air of disdain.
"It may be," spoke her father, in measured tones, "that you do not wish to hear from them; but I know that they care for your doings." "Let them do as they please." "Woman," he warned, "speak not thus.

Their disposition toward you is not a matter for indifference." "What reason have they to follow my path?
I am a woman like many others in the tribe, nothing more or less.

I stay with my husband," she went on with greater animation.