The men laughed till the tears came into their eyes; then the old pasha bade us come to him, and taking one of us on each knee, he asked:
"So the young hanoums wish to go, do they?"
"Go where?" we inquired.
"To the show of Punch and Judy."
"Can we?" we cried simultaneously.
"I believe so," the grandfather replied.
"Go now—this minute?"
The old man nodded.
It was a case of speechless delight with us. The old pasha turned to his company. "I am going to take the little hanoums to the show, and who wishes to come is welcome."
We dashed back to the haremlik and made ready in the greatest excitement. Our excitement was shared by all the women. They came in to see us made ready, and told us to be sure to remember everything in the show to repeat to them.
The show was given in a common garden café, such as the small bureaucracy and proletariat of Turkish masculinity frequents; but the Turks are essentially democratic, and our party did not mind this in the least.
The limits of the café were indicated by canvas hung on ropes to screen the show from the unpaying eye. Within were seats at twopence apiece, and seats at a penny. Djimlah and I were installed in special chairs at threepence, placed in
