Sorghum's Salvation

Franz looked at the scene before him with some helplessness. The girl was cutting her hair just to survive, and this country truly was beyond saving.

But using unhusked sorghum to make porridge was downright ridiculous. Eat enough of it and people could die.

Franz walked into the yard, paying no attention to the startled looks from those nearby. He picked up a sorghum head from the ground.

"Bring me a wooden box, a big one." (Gaelic)

Franz's tone left no room for argument, but Scathach had already raised a fire shovel.

A fire shovel was a tool specifically used for handling peat.

Ella hurriedly grabbed her sister.

"He's that merchant."

Scathach's expression shifted several times before she finally asked respectfully,

"How much do you think my hair is worth?"

Without turning around, Franz said,

"Go get a wooden box, or there's no deal. And remember to dry your hair. You don't want to catch a chill."

It was a considerate remark, but in Scathach's eyes, it was just a stingy merchant's little trick. She couldn't help cursing him inwardly. It's only a little wet! What a miser!

Even so, she hurried inside and rummaged through the house.

Before long, she came out carrying a large wooden box. Then Scathach noticed that her younger siblings had already hit it off with that stingy, unscrupulous merchant.

It wasn't anything special. A bag of candy had won them all over.

Scathach coughed twice, clearly displeased. "Ahem, ahem. Here's the box you asked for."

Then she shot her younger siblings a fierce look, as if to say, If he were a human trafficker, he'd have snatched the lot of you by now.

But there were so many orphans at the time that human traffickers had better ways to get their hands on victims.