"Thanks to you, if God will, the wound will heal very fast," he said, as he sprinkled the ashes on it and wrapped it around with an old piece of cloth. "Not even a doctor could give me better medicine than this."
The cat was allowed to come into the house, and was often there at dinner time with the chickens. Sometimes Almas petted her a little, and Nana threw her some food once in a while, but even they tried to hit her if she got in their way. She spent the most of the day hiding under the piles of fuel and in the dark stable in the hay. The dogs were anxious to chase her, and the boys were making bets as to who could hit her oftenest. Abbas was bragging because he had done it twice, for she was hard to hit, because she had practised dodging all of her life.
The door which opened into the dark from the family living room led to the store room. Karim often followed his mother when she went in, holding a lighted wax dip. There were no old trunks with newspapers and letters, because no one of the family had even seen a newspaper and no one but Dada had ever learned to read. Instead, there were big wooden shovels, plows, sickles and a pickax. In the autumn grapes hung in long clusters from the ceiling.
The baskets and jars were carefully covered, but Nana used to open them for Karim if he cried hard enough, and let him feel and taste what was in them. Most of the baskets were full of raisins. Two held red peppers. Some jars held salted cheese, and some were filled with butter, which felt very cool and soft. The pickled cucumbers tasted good, and best of all was the molasses.
One day Nana had just taken the heavy cover off from the molasses jar, when she found that she had forgotten a dish. She went out to get it, and Karim was left alone. He pulled the molasses ladle out of the jar and tried to get its bowl to his lips, all dripping as it was. It was half as long as he, and somehow hit him fairly in the eyes, filling them with molasses instead of his mouth. He screamed and ran through the door, dropping the ladle as he went.
Nana ran quickly to Karim. "My darling," she cried, "light of my eyes! Did the molasses hurt my darling? We shall beat the jug. See!" and she took the broom and started for the store room.
Just then Almas appeared in the door.
"Why did you not watch Karim?" Nana cried angrily. "We shall whip you, too! See"—she added to Karim—"shall we whip this naughty girl because she let the molasses hurt you?"
"No," said Karim, picking up a stick, "it was the jug. We shall whip it."