“No, there is no one who makes it as thou dost. Fetch it for me, O my nurse, or I shall scream.”
With a very bad grace Khadija complied with the imperious command, and hobbled out of the room. The moment she was gone, Zeynab took a folded piece of paper from beneath her pillow and laid it in Georgia’s hand.
“There!” she said, with a radiant smile. Georgia unfolded the paper, and found it to contain a wretched native print, vile alike in drawing, colour, and intention, and purporting to represent an English ball-room. Some resemblance between the open coat and cotton blouse which Georgia wore with her riding-skirt, and a man’s dress-coat and shirt-front, had struck the child, and led her to the conclusion that Georgia was a man.
“I see what you mean,” said Georgia, whose one glance at the print had filled her with loathing; “but, Zeynab, this is not a very pretty picture for you to have. If you will give it to me, I will find you a book with several pictures in it instead.”
“Give me the book first,” was the prudent answer, as Zeynab reclaimed her treasure jealously. “This is all I have. What are thy pictures like, O doctor lady?”
“There is one of the Queen of England and many of her family,” said Georgia, thinking of some odd numbers of illustrated papers which had thus far survived wonderfully the various vicissitudes of the Mission. “I might even find you two or three books if you will be good and let me look at your foot.”
“Oh, my foot!” Zeynab’s face was pursed up once more in readiness to cry. “It hurts so dreadfully, and Khadija said thou wouldst cut it off.”
“Not if I can possibly help it, I promise you. Will you be a brave girl, and let me look at it quietly? I don’t mind your crying out if I hurt you very much; but you must not struggle, and I will be as gentle as I can.”
“But why should I be hurt? I am Queen Zeynab.”
“Because I must hurt you a little now if you are to get well afterwards. If you are queen here, show it by being braver than any one else would be. I am treating you like a grown-up person, Zeynab, not like a baby.”