“Did she?”
“And makes your bright eyes brighter than ever.”
“Did my mother shiko to the Lord Jesus Christ?”
“There, there, you have talked enough, my boy,” said the father, gloomily; and the two continued their walk in silence. As the conversation ceased, a woman who, with a palm-leaf fan before her face, had followed closely in the shadow of the stranger—so closely, indeed, that she might have heard every word that had been spoken—stopped at a little shop by the way, and was soon seemingly intent on making purchases.
“Ko Shway-bay!” called out the missionary. A man bearing a large satchel, which he had just newly filled with books, appeared at the door of an inner apartment of the zayat.
“’Ken-payah!”
“Did you observe the tall man who just passed, leading a little boy?”
“I saw him.”
“What do you know about him?”
“He is a writer under government—a very respectable man—haughty—reserved——”