Part 4 (1/2)

When this had been done by every one, Osman's mother clapped her hands, and a tureen of thick, creamy soup was brought in and set on the leather pad.

The hostess politely waved her hand toward her princ.i.p.al guest. She was inviting her to be the first one to dip her spoon into the soup. After this, the other ladies joined in, all eating together from the same dish.

After a few mouthfuls, the hostess made a sign to the slave to remove the soup and bring in another dish. Before the meal was over there would be sixteen courses, at least, and, therefore, it would not be well to eat much of any one of them.

The guests ate a little of every course. But, between the courses, they nibbled at the olives, cuc.u.mbers, and different sweetmeats.

More than once, Osman's mother broke off a choice bit of food with her fingers, and held it up to the mouth of one of her friends. It was a very polite attention, and her visitor was pleased.

”How rude some people in the world are about eating,” said one of the ladies. ”They use the most clumsy things in their hands. They call them knives and forks. And besides, I have heard they do not wash before and after each meal. Ugh! It makes me s.h.i.+ver to think of their unclean ways.”

”Yes, they are certainly not neat, and they are very awkward, if all I have heard about them be true,” said another visitor. ”They should study the ways of our people.”

At last the luncheon was ended. The hostess led the way into the drawing-room, where coffee was now served.

They were having a merry time, laughing and chatting, when Osman entered the room. His face showed he had something he wished to tell. Making a low bow to the ladies, he turned to his mother and said:

”Oh, mamma, I just saw a cat fall ever so far. She was on the roof of that old building behind our house. She fell down, down to the ground.

And, mamma, I thought she would be killed. But she came down softly on her feet and ran off as if she hadn't been hurt the least bit. How is it that a cat can do such a thing? No other animal is like her, I'm sure.”

His mother laughed, and turned to one of her friends. ”Won't you tell my little boy the story of Mohammed and the cat?” she asked. ”We should all be pleased to listen, and perhaps there are some here who do not know it.”

The rest of the company nodded their heads. ”Yes, do tell it,” said one after another.

”Very well, little Osman,” said the lady whom the boy's mother had asked. ”You shall have the story. I trust you will remember it whenever you think of the Holy Prophet.

”Mohammed once travelled a long, long distance over the desert. He became very tired, and at last he stopped to rest. As he did so, he fell fast asleep.

”Then, sad am I to tell it, a wicked serpent glided out from among the rocks and drew near the Prophet. It was about to bite him, when a cat happened to come along. She saw the serpent and what it was about to do; she rushed upon it and struggled and fought. The serpent defended itself with all its strength and cunning, too. Great was the battle. But the cat killed the snake.

”As it was dying, the wicked creature hissed so horribly that the noise awakened Mohammed, and he saw at once that the cat had saved his life.

”'Come here,' he said. As the cat obeyed him, the holy man stroked her lovingly three times. Three times he blessed her, saying these words:

”'May peace be yours, O cat. I will reward you for your kindness to me this day. No enemy shall conquer thee. No creature that lives shall ever be able to throw thee on thy back. Thou art indeed thrice blessed.'”

”And is this the reason a cat always falls on her feet?” asked Osman.

”Even so, my little friend. Perhaps after this story you will feel more loving toward those soft-footed creatures,” said the lady.

Osman made a low bow and thanked her for her kindness in telling the story. He was about to leave the room when another of the visitors reached out her hand and softly patted his shoulder.

”Sit down beside me, my child. I have a story to tell the company. Stay and hear it, if your dear mother is willing.”

”May I, mamma?” he asked.

”Certainly, Osman, if you are good and quiet.”

The little boy at once settled himself beside the lady who had asked him to stay. This is the story he heard.