“Why, my dear sir, you must have forgotten that old tale. By the light impression of one foot in the sand, by the herbage not being evenly cropped, and by the ants being busy with the fallen grain on one side, the flies, attracted by the honey, upon the other.”
“Bah!” exclaimed the old lawyer. “Eastern tales are all gammon. I don’t believe in the East at all.”
“Nor in people being cast ashore in desert places and having encounters with Greek sailors. Nor in their having a faithful experienced Mussulman guide, who fought for them and strove his very best to get them out of their troubles, eh, Burne? Well, I do, and I’m very tired. Good-night, Yussuf. You are going to sleep, I suppose?”
“No, effendi,” said the Turk. “I shall watch till the stars say it is two hours past midnight, and then I shall awaken you.”
“Humph! Wrong again,” cried Mr Burne testily. “I always am wrong. What are you laughing at, sir?”
“At you, Mr Burne. I beg your pardon, I couldn’t help it,” said Lawrence.
“Oh, I’ll forgive you, boy. I’m glad to see you can laugh like that, instead of being regularly knocked up with our troubles. I begin to believe that you never have been ill, and were shamming so as to get a holiday.”
“Do you, sir?” said Lawrence sadly.
“No, my boy. Good-night. Good-night, Yussuf,” he added, and then he raised an echo by blowing his nose.
“Good-night, excellency,” said the Turk, rather haughtily; and soon there was nothing to be heard but the sighing of the night wind and the low murmur of the rippling sea.