I caught Aggie’s agonized eye, but there was nothing else to do.  Were we not his friends?  And had he not made this delicacy for us?  On her third cake, however, Aggie luckily turned blue round the mouth and had to go and lie down.  This broke up the meal and probably saved my life, though my stomach has never been the same since.  Tish says the cakes are probably all right in the Orient, where it is hot and the grease does not get a chance to solidify.  She thinks that Tufik is probably a good cook in his own country.  But Aggie says that a good many things in the Bible that she never understood are made plain to her if that is what they ate in Biblical times—­some of the things they saw in visions, and all that.  She dropped asleep on Tish’s lounge and distinctly saw Tufik murdering Hannah by forcing one of his cakes down her throat.

The next month was one of real effort.  We had planned to go to Panama, and had our passage engaged; but when we broke the news to Tufik he turned quite pale.

“You go—­away?” he said wistfully.

“Only for a month,” Tish hastened to apologize.  “You see, we—­we are all very tired, and the Panama Canal—­”

“Canal?  I know not a canal.”

“It is for ships—­”

“You go there in a ship?”

“Yes.  A canal is a—­”

“You go far—­in a ship—­and I—­I stay here?”

“Only for a month,” Aggie broke in.  “We will leave you enough money to live on; and perhaps when we come back you will have found something to do—­”

“For a month,” he said brokenly.  “I have no friends, no Miss Tish, no Miss Liz, no Miss Pilk.  I die!”

He got up and walked to the window.  It was Aggie who realized the awful truth.  The poor lonely boy was weeping—­and Charlie Sands may say what he likes!  He was really crying—­when he turned, there were large tears on his cheeks.  What made it worse was that he was trying to smile.

“I wish you much happiness on the canal,” he said.  “I am wicked; but my sad heart—­it ache that my friends leave me.  I am sad!  If only my seester—­”

* * * * *

That was the first we had known of Tufik’s sister, back in Beirut, wearing a veil over her face and making lace for the bazaars.  We were to know more.

Well, between getting ready to go to Panama and trying to find something Tufik could do, we were very busy for the next month.  Tufik grew reconciled to our going, but he was never cheerful about it; and finding that it pained him we never spoke about it in his presence.

He was with us a great deal.  In the morning he would go to Tish, who would give him a list of her friends to see.  Then Tish would telephone and make appointments for him, and he would start off hopefully, with his pasteboard suitcase.  But he never sold anything—­except a shirt-waist pattern to Mrs. Ostermaier, the minister’s wife.  We took day about giving him his carfare, but this was pauperizing and we knew it.  Besides, he was very sensitive and insisted on putting down everything we gave him in a book, to be repaid later when he had made a success.