“Ah, it is thou!”
I sat down and asked after his health, to which he replied in a surly way, keeping the use of the second person singular, a somewhat unmannerly method of addressing a visitor, and then he relapsed into a silence, which was broken by Hama appearing with the four sugar loaves, which he set down near the door, together with the saddle-bags.
The Shaikh ul Islam asked, “What are these?” and Hama replied, somewhat taken aback by the sour tones, that we had brought them as a greeting present, unworthy as they were, but the Shaikh turned to me and with a heavy frown said the rudest thing possible:
“Take them back whence they came, consume them yourselves, sell them in Halabja; I have no need of such things, nor are we such friends as to warrant this style of civility.”
Then again addressing Hama, he said:
“What is your master’s name?”
“Agha Mirza Ghulam Husain Shirazi,” the poor fellow answered, astonishment and dismay showing in every line of his great form.
“And yours?”
“Hama.”
“Whence?”