his chit of a girl,
who knew nothing of the world, nor the shifts that folks are forced to
who would live in it comfortably, to call her husband's mother an
unnatural woman for displaying a little forethought? And Allah knew it
was a grievous pity, for her adherence would have clinched the matter.
They would have given Iskender anything on earth to secure the conversion
of the daughter of the Orthodox priest. Appeased at length, she asked to
see the picture. It was a simple fancy of Iskender's, done in leisure
moments, of angels fighting devils in mid-air, with clouds like solid
cushions spread to fall on.

"Aye, that may pass," she admitted grudgingly, "the fiends at all events,
for they believe in them."

In a dream, Iskender, at his mother's side, approached once more the
Mission on the sandhills, traversed the garden and the clean cool hall,
and entered the reception-room with its soft carpets, polished chairs and
tables, which had presented to his childish mind the life of palaces.
There sat the ladies with their work-baskets, each in her special chair,
exactly as of yore. There was the canary in its cage, and there was the
dog in Hilda's lap as usual. The mother of George came forward and shook
hands with him, then made him sit beside her and recount his doings.
Conscious of independent standing, he was fearless and behaved with
dignity; he even asked for news of the Emir without confusion. The other
ladies chatted kindly of his marriage, praising the beauty of the bride,
whom they knew only by sight; even the Father of Ice shook hands with
him, and hoped with a smile that he was well and thriving. It surprised
him much to see his mother making frequent reverence, to hear her asking
pardon in his name.

Having inquired for George and the rest of the children, each by name,
and assured himself of their welfare, he conceived that he had said
enough, and wished to go. It was then that he made his offering,
producing the little picture and placing it in the lady's hand with
conscious pride. The effect was quite other than he had expected. The
ladies Carulin and Jane turned from it with a pitying smile; Hilda
remarked, "I prefer your earlier work;" the missionary indulged in a curt
laugh; while the mother of George herself, the blest recipient, was dumb,
till, seeing trouble in Iskender's eyes, she forced a smile and exclaimed:

"A curious picture! I shall certainly preserve it among my treasures."

Out