“Ghandûr?” he cried; “Ghandûr is my right foot,” and immediately applied that member to the beldame’s person.

The old woman did not dare to speak again to Barakah, though the latter plagued her mercilessly, crying “Ghandûr!” here and “Ghandûr!” there, for the treat of seeing her curvet and wring her hands.

One morning, after Yûsuf had departed, she grew conscious of a great oppression due to lack of outlet. The feeling had been with her vaguely for some days. Now she knew it for a craving; she must see an English person to revive her fading interest in the strange things around her.

“Ghandûr!” she cried.⁠—He answered “Hâdir!”⁠—“Fetch me a carriage for the fifth hour after noon.”

“Hâdir!” he said again; and from her lattice she saw him speed off on his errand like the wind. There were few carriages for hire in Cairo in those days, and it was necessary to bespeak one early.