One night the east wind, when she said that, pulled a tile off Bimsha's house,
and threw it at her; and Katipah ran in and hid behind the door in a great
hurry. After that she had less to say when the east wind came and blew under
her gable and rattled at her door. "Oh, Gamma-gata," she sighed, "if I might
only set eyes on you, I would fear nothing at all!"

When the weather grew fine again Katipah returned to the shore and flew her
kite as she had always done before the love of Gamma-gata had entered her
heart. Now and then, as she did so, the wind would change softly, and begin
blowing from the west. Then little Katipah would pull lovingly at the string,
and cry, "Oh, Gamma-gata, have you got fast hold of it up there?"

One day after dusk, when she, the last of all the flyers, hauled down her kitc
to earth, there she found a heron's feather fastened among the strings.
Katipah knew who had sent that, and kissed it a thousand times over; nor did
she mind for many days afterwards what Bimsha might say, becausc the heron's
feather lay so close to her heart, warming it with the hope of Gamma-gata's
return.

But as weeks and months passed on, and Bimsha still did not fail to say each
morning, "Katipah, where is your fine husband to-day?" the timid heart grew
faint with waiting. "Alas!" thought Katipah, "if Heaven would only send me a
child, I would show it to her; she would believe me easily then! However tiny,
it would be big enough to convince her. Gamma-gata, it is a very little thing
that I ask!"

And now every day and all day long she sent up her kite from the seashore,
praying that a child might be born to her and convince Bimsha of the truth.
Every one said: "Katipah is mad about kite-flying! See how early she goes and
how late she stays: hardly any weather keeps her indoors."