"Get up," said Grandmother, "run to the mullah, and have him write another charm; perhaps it will frighten the Evil Eye away."
Nana did so.
Said the mullah, as he gave her the roll of paper, "If there are twenty evil spirits in your son, they will all run away when you tie this prayer around his neck. It is worth fifty cents."
Nana began to cry. "What can I do, O holy man?" she said, "I have only twenty-seven cents, and my son will die."
"Take comfort, my daughter," replied the mullah, "I am God's servant, and He is merciful. The twenty-seven cents are enough."
But that night Karim nearly choked in his coughing. Dada looked very anxious. "Women are donkeys," he said, "and so are mullahs. I will go for the barber."
The barber looked grave. "See the black blood. I will take it out, and he will get well." He cut a vein with his razor, and caught the blood in a bowl, but Karim became worse. The next morning Dada hurried to the best doctor in the village. He looked at the boy a long time.
"Bring me this afternoon," he said, "fifty cents, and that hen with a white tail"—he pointed to the largest of the old biddies—"and with its blood and a mouse's eye I will make a medicine which will cure him. If it does not, take back your money."
When he had gone Bajee and some other women came to see Nana.