The Mother Superior, as they take her to be, bows her head solemnly.
"It is well," she says, and touches a bell.
Almost immediately the native servant appears, to whom she speaks in low tones, while John wonders when so great a revolution in the affairs of orders like this occurred whereby they are enabled to have men-servants.
Hardly has the native vanished than another sister appears, carrying a small tray upon which are seen a crystal bottle full of grape juice, three odd glasses and a plate of plain flat cakes.
"Doctor Craig, our order refuses the use of wines; this is the pure juice of the grape, expressed at our own vineyard on this island. It is as harmless as water, but refreshing. It is our simple habit to invite our guests to join us in this way; we believe in the Arab rule of breaking bread; those with whom we take salt are ever more our friends. You will not, cannot refuse."
How should they?
John looks at the professor, and in turn the latter looks at John.
"Madame, you have given me cause for happiness; we will join you in your simple lunch," returns the young man.
"You are wounded," noticing his arm in its sling.
"Not seriously."