“It is the wife and children of the guardian of this place, who makes the graves,” Na’imah, her nearest neighbour, informed Barakah. “They come for their accustomed gifts of food and raiment. See, Fitnah Khânum is just going to bestow them in the name of all of us.”

A minute later the gravedigger’s wife and children were at Barakah, kissing her hand repeatedly and crying, “May it be many a year ere we receive thee here, O queen of charms.”

The Englishwoman shivered at this form of compliment; and then a strange old woman, who had been observing her, sidled across the room and squatted at her feet.

“O Umm ed-Dahak, welcome!” exclaimed Na’imah. “Where hast thou been this long while, that we have not seen thee? There has been no fun at all in life without thee. How is thy health? What new jests dost thou bring us?”

But the old woman had not come, it seemed, to talk to Na’imah; for, replying to these questions in the briefest manner possible, she addressed herself to Barakah in coaxing whispers.