An old negro-woman went in and out of the little back-door of the tent, pursued by flies and gnats, while she cleared away a variety of earthen dishes with the remains of food—­pomegranate-peelings, breadcrumbs, and garlic-tops—­which had been lying on one of the carpets for some hours since the girls had finished their dinner.

Old Hekt sat apart from the girls on a painted trunk, and she was saying, as she took a parcel from her wallet: 

“Here, take this incense, and burn six seeds of it, and the vermin will all disappear—­” she pointed to the flies that swarmed round the platter in her hand.  “If you like I will drive away the mice too and draw the snakes out of their holes better than the priests.”

     [Recipes for exterminating noxious creatures are found in the
     papyrus in my possession.]

“Keep your magic to yourself,” said a girl in a husky voice.  “Since you muttered your words over me, and gave me that drink to make me grow slight and lissom again, I have been shaken to pieces with a cough at night, and turn faint when I am dancing.”

“But look how slender you have grown,” answered Hekt, “and your cough will soon be well.”

“When I am dead,” whispered the girl to the old woman.  “I know that most of us end so.”

The witch shrugged her shoulders, and perceiving the dwarf she rose from her seat.

The girls too noticed the little man, and set up the indescribable cry, something like the cackle of hens, which is peculiar to Eastern women when something tickles their fancy.  Nemu was well known to them, for his mother always stayed in their tent whenever she came to Thebes, and the gayest of them cried out: 

“You are grown, little man, since the last time you were here.”

“So are you,” said the dwarf sharply; “but only as far as big words are concerned.”

“And you are as wicked as you are small,” retorted the girl.

“Then my wickedness is small too,” said the dwarf laughing, “for I am little enough!  Good morning, girls—­may Besa help your beauty.  Good day, mother—­you sent for me?”

The old woman nodded; the dwarf perched himself on the chest beside her, and they began to whisper together.

How dusty and tired you are,” said Hekt.  I do believe you have come on foot in the burning sun.”

“My ass is dead,” replied Nemu, “and I have no money to hire a steed.”

“A foretaste of future splendor,” said the old woman with a sneer.  “What have you succeeded in doing?”

“Paaker has saved us,” replied Nemu, “and I have just come from a long interview with the Regent.”

“Well?”

“He will renew your letter of freedom, if you will put Paaker into his power.”

“Good-good.  I wish he would make up his mind to come and seek me—­in disguise, of course—­I would—­”

“He is very timid, and it would not suggest to him anything so unpracticable.”