“Leave her that,” said Kāra. “And now, where is her black cotton dress?”
Tilga hurriedly fetched it from a closet in the robing chamber. She brought the head-shawl and the coarse shoes also.
Nephthys was sobbing now as miserably as a child that has been robbed of its toys.
“I won’t wear them! I won’t have them! Take them away!” she wailed, as the old Fedah garments were produced.
But the woman shook her angrily and slapped her again, covering her with the crude, soiled gown, and then pushing her back upon the divan while she placed the flat shoes upon the girl’s bare feet. Tears were still standing in Nephthys’ great eyes, but she submitted to the inevitable with a resumption of her old obedient manner.
“Call Ebbek,” said the master; and Tilga displayed such activity that she quickly returned, dragging the Arab after her.
“You will take this woman back to Fedah, whence you brought her, and deliver her over to her mother again. There is a train at sundown, and you will be able to catch it if you are prompt. Drive to the station in a carriage.”
Ebbek bowed without betraying surprise at his master’s unexpected command. Perhaps he had been observant, and knew the reason for the girl’s dismissal.
“Must old Sĕra return your money?” he asked.
“No; tell her she may keep it. Here is gold for your expenses. Feed Nephthys at the railway station, if you have time, and buy her some cigarettes. Now hasten.”