“Who are these people?” she demanded fretfully of Khadija, trying to arrange the folds of the dirty wrapper she was wearing into some semblance of dignity. “I do not want visitors when I cannot put on my best clothes. Why hast thou brought these women here, O my nurse? Who are they, I say?” sharply.
“It is the great doctor lady, who will cure thy foot, my dove,” replied Khadija, somewhat shamefacedly.
“The Englishwoman?” exclaimed the child, starting up and glaring at Georgia with eyes like those of a hunted stag. Then, sinking down again, she burst into a storm of angry sobs, striking Khadija passionately when she tried to calm her. It was useless for Georgia to speak, and equally useless for the old woman to entreat her Rose, her dove, her eyes, her soul, her Queen Zeynab, to be quiet and let the doctor lady look at her foot. The sobs continued with unabated violence, mingled with torrents of vituperation directed at Khadija, and the child fought like a wild cat when any one attempted to touch her.
“Leave her alone,” said Georgia, with an imperative gesture, to Khadija; “come here, and let her have her cry out. Now tell me what you have been saying to her to make her afraid of me.”
“Nothing, O doctor lady—nothing, in the name of God! It is only that the maiden fears the face of strangers.”
“That would not account for her terror on finding out who I was. Speak, Khadija, and tell the truth, or I leave the house at once.”
Terror-stricken by the threat, the old woman mumbled out an explanation, which Rahah translated to her mistress.
“She says, O my lady, that since she heard you were at Bir-ul-Malik she has frightened the child with your name. When she was going to try a new medicine, or to hurt her at all, she would say, ‘If you cry or struggle, I will send for the cruel English doctor lady, who will cut off your foot in little pieces,’ and the child was quiet at once.”
“That is quite enough,” said Georgia, observing that Zeynab, guessing that the rest were talking about her, had hushed her sobs in order to try to hear what they were saying, and she returned to the side of the bed. The sobs began again at once, but Georgia laid a firm hand on the child’s shoulder and signed to Rahah to interpret for her.
“When you have quite finished crying, Zeynab, you can let me know, and I will show you something I have got here.”