“Wall,” sez I, in a encouragin’ voice, “I am used to strange errents—yes, indeed, I am! Why,” sez I, “this very day a woman writ to me from Minnesota for money to fence in a door-yard, and,” sez I, “Sime Bentley wuz over bright and early this mornin’ to borrer a settin’ hen. He had plenty of eggs, but no setters.”
Sez I in a encouragin’ axent, for I couldn’t help likin’ the creeter, “I am used to ’em—don’t be afraid.”
I didn’t know but he wuz after my nightgown pattern, and I looked clost at his garb; but I see that it wuz fur fuller than mine and sot different. The long folds hung with a dignity and grace that my best mull nightgown never had, and if it wuz so, I wuz a-goin’ to tell him honorable that his pattern went fur ahead of mine in grandeur.
And then, thinks I, mebby he is a-goin’ to beg for money for a meetin’-house steeple or sunthin’ in Hindoostan, and I wuz jest a-makin’ up my mind to tell him that we hadn’t yet quite paid for the paint that ornamented ourn. And I wuz a-layin’ out to bring in some Bible and say, “Charity begun on our own steeple.”
But jest as I wuz a-thinkin’ this he spoke up in that melodious voice, that somehow put me in mind of palm trees a-risin’ up aginst a blue-black sky, and pagodas, and oasises, and things. Sez he, “Will you allow me to tell you a little of my history?”
I sez, “Yes, indeed! I am jest through with my work.” Sez I frankly, “I have been finishin’ some nightcaps for my pardner, and I sot the last stitch to ’em as you come in. I’d love to set still and hear you tell it.”
So I sot down in the big arm-chair and folded my arms in a almost luxurious foldin’, and listened.
Sez he, “My name is Al Faizi, and I am come from a country far away.” And he waved his hand towards the east.
Instinctively I follered his gester, and his eyes, and I see that the gold boat of the moon had come round the pint, and wuz a-sailin’ up swift into the clear sky. But a big star shone there, it stood there motionless, as he went on.
Sez he, “I have always been a learner, a seeker after truth. When a small boy I lived with my uncle, who was a learned man, and his wife, who was an Englishwoman. From her I learned your language. I loved to study; she had many books. She was the daughter of a missionary, who died and left her alone in that strange land. My uncle was a convert to her faith. She married him and was happy. She had many books that belonged to her father; he was a good man and very learned; he did my people much good while he lived with them.