'I did not think to frighten thee, senseless little one. Look up! Am I
angry? Are, are, are! Shall I weep too, and of our tears make a great
pond and drown us both, and then thy father will never get well, lacking
thee to pull his beard? Peace, peace, and I will tell thee of the Gods.
Thou hast heard many tales?'

'Very many, father.'

'Now, this is a new one which thou hast not heard. Long and long ago
when the Gods walked with men as they do to-day, but that we have not
faith to see, Shiv, the greatest of Gods, and Parbati his wife, were
walking in the garden of a temple.'

'Which temple? That in the Nandgaon ward?' said the child.

'Nay, very far away. Maybe at Trimbak or Hurdwar, whither thou must make
pilgrimage when thou art a man. Now, there was sitting in the garden
under the jujube trees, a mendicant that had worshipped Shiv for forty
years, and he lived on the offerings of the pious, and meditated
holiness night and day.'

'Oh father, was it thou?' said the child, looking up with large eyes.

'Nay, I have said it was long ago, and, moreover, this mendicant was
married.'

'Did they put him on a horse with flowers on his head, and forbid him to
go to sleep all night long? Thus they did to me when they made my
wedding,' said the child, who had been married a few months before.