Mrs. Kango was in her best elements. She left the stream with a sort of girlish relish in her walk and a bucketful of water on her head. Moving westward as she was, the wanning evening sun (midway through the last quarter of its daily course) caught her advancing figure and forced her shadow to fall behind. She strode dreamily, putting one foot in front of the other, each at a time and in perfectly timed turns like a ballet dancer. Moreover, as if in compliment to her walk, her hips alternately bulged outward, all in tune with the actions of her feet. Indeed, she was unusually lighthearted. Yet, as she drew nearer to her compound her cheerfulness became suddenly and totally lost to her semblance. With that loss, however, rose a consciousness of the surroundings. Her hut, being the first wife, was at the right side of the compound. At any rate, if out there she had been alone, in here, she felt solitary: her co-wife kept out of her way as if her affliction of childlessness was contagious. How sadly had things turned out; and yet somehow she saw herself at the cause of it. Had it been, after all, knowing the natures of women, a thoughtless undertaking? Had talking her husband into marrying another wife payed? In any case, by her own making, before many more months had been over their heads, another woman had come into the family. Agnetta, like herself, was now a widow; yet, in the eyes of relatives, her hold on the family could not get more unshakeable: she had children, after all. Mrs. Kango's attentions floated back to the present.The external kitchen had concealed her approach into the compound. And on a sudden, as she rounded the far side she came to a halt. Sitting in a semi-circle at her doorstep were elderly men, close relatives of the family. On taking notice of Agnetta in their midst, she drew back from her usual burst of merry activity in same such occasions. Mrs. Kango knew in an instant that this was no ordinary social gathering. Besides, from the way Agnetta's eyes sparkled with sadistic concentration, the object of this elderly party could not get more clearer. She knew her co-wife well; and that vile sparkle was not for show. She balanced the object on her head: it seemed heavier than she remembered it. Mutely, she released herself of the weight of the bucket and edged closer to the seated panel... The spokesman, seeing his chance, shifted in his foldable chair and assumed a more intimidating posture. That alone told Mrs. Kango all that she desired to know of the nature of this rendez-vous. The manner of the old instigator, by the application of a little ploy, sent off alarms in quick succession in her mind. "It's wonderful," he drawled,"how you still can balance the bucket so well. If I may ask: have you not yet torn yourself away from this routine? Well, your husband has been gone for a while now, yet you still fetch water at this hour when he used, in life, to take his bath. "By-the-by, it's a thing for the reservation of wonder how well you are holding up in your place. There's nothing to frown about, is there? I used to believe, till this moment, that no one person has it all; yet in your case this belief is obsolete. You have it all... What? Come up again? Ah but of course: you're barren and a widow, oh, and heartless! How else could your co-wife's children be starving, and yet you grow fat in your fruitless tummy?" Mrs. Kango had had her fill and she interposed as only a lady whose respect was on the balance could, hotly: "That's because I ain't no lazy bone! Oh sorry, did I graze a nerve!? Perhaps, it's the work of my hands that you envy; and that at your old age huh!" The reaction was no less hot than Mrs. Kango's outburst itself: it came swiftly and directly as if they had counted on this interposition. "You call our ancestral lands the work of your hands, woman! Be gone at once! Go back to your parents and learn some manners! GO!" The mortified horde of old relations stood up, and made an effort to show his indignation by a thorough shake of the walking sticks. At that instant, a woman of lesser reservation than Mrs. Kango possessed would have burst in tears. Instead, she kept her cool and determined to walk away. She went as far as the graveyard and no farther. There she lingered, torn. In a moment more, she registered another figure by the grave, next to her. It was Agnetta. She was leaning toward her as though to give her a parting mockery of a hug; only what she gave was worse than any pain that a mere mockery would have effected. In a voice too full of triumph, Agnetta remonstrated,"Leave the wretched husband to rot in peace, or should I say to pieces? It's tough luck he mocked my love, and chose you! Oh goodness, how quickly that poison did take him: a little show wouldn't have killed him! Anyways, it feels so sweet to have you both out of my life. So long, sweetie." This was too much. She...Agnetta! In shock, Mrs. Kango collapsed by her husband's grave.