"And her maid-servant?" asked the old man.
"Eight ounces," replied Abdullah.
"It is all I have," said the old man, "but I will give it."
"If you have no more," said Abdullah, "Allah forbid that I should strip you. I will carry the two for sixteen ounces."
"Allah will make it up to you," said the old man. "If you will deign to accompany me to the bazaar, I will pay you immediately."
They went to the arcades about the square and entered the shop of
Hassan, the money-changer.
The old man pulled at his girdle and produced, after many contortions, a purse of gazelle skin.
"Friend Hassan," he said, "I wish to pay to this, my son, sixteen ounces. Kindly weigh them for me."
Hassan produced his scales. They consisted of two metal disks, suspended by silk threads from the ends of a fern stem. He balanced this stem upon the edge of a knife, fixed above his table. In one of the pans he placed a weight, stamped with Arabic characters. The pan fell to the table. Hassan produced a horn spoon, which he blew upon and then carefully wiped with the hem of his burnoose. He handed the spoon to the old man, who felt of the bowl.
"It is dry," he said; "nothing will stick to it."