call to himself.

"My son!" said she. "This magnificence is not for me!"

"Yes, Mother Khadra, it is indeed for you. Ask the merchant, Lion; I
paid for it honestly. You think, perhaps, I have not noticed that
the dress in which you go to the mosque is torn and faded? You
think, perhaps, I do not know that your head-dress has often been
mended? I well know that it has been. I know, too, that the women
laugh and say mockingly:--She has not even a Sabbath dress, and
appears before Allah in the garb of a beggar!' Therefore, I rejoice
at having been able to procure a new dress for you, mother. Have it
made, in order that you may appear before Allah in festive attire."

"No my son, it is impossible," said Khadra sadly, as Mohammed held
out the costly package.

"Why impossible?" cried he, excitedly.

"Because it does not become the widow of Ibrahim, the poor woman, to
array herself in garments of purple, gold-embroidered satin, like
the ladies of rank. The women would laugh at and mock me more than
ever if I should wear such magnificent garments instead of my faded
dress. Neither can I wear the veil. You can preserve all this to
give to your bride some day. It does not become old Sitta Khadra to
adorn herself thus."

"You are not old, Mother Khadra," said he, in half-tender, angry
tones. "You are still young, and when you adorn yourself with these
garments, there will be no handsomer woman in all Cavalla than Sitta