Читать книгу Our Little Persian Cousin - E. Cutler Shedd - Страница 7

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Karim at this time happened to have only the shirt that he was wearing. He had never had more than two at one time, and one had dropped to pieces from age the week before. Nana had not found time as yet to finish a new one. The shirt was a dirty brown, although if one could have examined the seams he would have found that it had once been a dark red with black stripes. Now, with the molasses streaks, it looked fairly black.

Nana decided that it must be washed at once, for Dada might not like to see his son looking so very dirty, so she took him with her to the pool when she went for water that morning. She washed the shirt thoroughly, while he stood beside her shivering in the cool breeze. When at last it looked somewhat cleaner she wrung the water from it as well as she could, and put it back upon him to dry. Karim fairly howled with cold as he trotted along by her side, and when they reached home, to comfort him, she gave him two cucumbers and some of the raisins that he liked so well.

That afternoon he began to cough severely, and his head was very hot. Nana pulled at her hair in her anxiety.

"The Evil Eye has struck him!" she exclaimed. "The charm fell off from his neck when I washed his shirt, and I did not notice it for some time. The Evil Eye must have struck him then. Why did I not keep him dressed in Fatima's clothes, so that the Evil Eye would think him a girl, and not notice him? or rub his face with ashes, so that he would look ugly? Awý! What can I do?"

"Get up," said Grandmother, "run to the mullah, and have him write another charm; perhaps it will frighten the Evil Eye away."

Nana did so.

Said the mullah, as he gave her the roll of paper, "If there are twenty evil spirits in your son, they will all run away when you tie this prayer around his neck. It is worth fifty cents."

Nana began to cry. "What can I do, O holy man?" she said, "I have only twenty-seven cents, and my son will die."

"Take comfort, my daughter," replied the mullah, "I am God's servant, and He is merciful. The twenty-seven cents are enough."

But that night Karim nearly choked in his coughing. Dada looked very anxious. "Women are donkeys," he said, "and so are mullahs. I will go for the barber."

The barber looked grave. "See the black blood. I will take it out, and he will get well." He cut a vein with his razor, and caught the blood in a bowl, but Karim became worse. The next morning Dada hurried to the best doctor in the village. He looked at the boy a long time.

"Bring me this afternoon," he said, "fifty cents, and that hen with a white tail"—he pointed to the largest of the old biddies—"and with its blood and a mouse's eye I will make a medicine which will cure him. If it does not, take back your money."

When he had gone Bajee and some other women came to see Nana.

"My uncle once was sick like this," said Bajee, "and an old woman told grandmother to take a rooster and cut it in two, and tie the warm, bleeding pieces upon his breast. That made him well."

"My brother," said an old woman, "was cured of a cough by lying in the oven for the whole of one morning."

So Karim spent the afternoon lying upon the warm ashes in the hole where the cooking was done, with the bleeding body of the old rooster pressed tightly against his chest, while the charms were still about his neck and the doctor's medicine at hand. That evening he was much better.

Nana insisted that he was cured because of the mullah's charm; Grandmother believed in the dead rooster, while Dada went to thank the doctor and give him a lamb for a present.

It was some days before Karim was himself again, and as he was fretful his grandmother amused him with stories.

Here is one of them. The others were very similar to this.