“Oh, I mean to stick to the place,” said Charlie eagerly, somewhat to Cecil’s surprise. “I do really intend to stay on, unless I am driven away. But you must let me have the privilege of telling my woes to you, Miss Anstruther, and getting a lecture in return. I take to lectures as a duck takes to water; you ask Cousin Elma.” Cecil laughed, and as Lady Haigh came just then to ask her to sing, she had no more talk with Charlie. The next day was her first Sunday in Baghdad, the prototype of nearly all her Sundays for five years. There was an English service, conducted by Mr Schad, the colleague of Dr Yehudi in his mission-work among the Jews, and Cecil felt that she had never fully appreciated the beauty of the Liturgy until she heard it read, with a strong German accent, in this far land. It took her back to her father’s beautiful church at Whitcliffe, and to the dingy and ornate edifice in a city street, which she had attended in her school-days, and it linked her with the services held in both places to-day. She treasured every hour of that Sunday, which slipped by all too quickly, and left her to face the duties and responsibilities of her new position. On the Monday morning she dressed herself, with great reluctance, in her official costume, lamenting that she could not wear European dress, as she might have done without difficulty in Constantinople or Smyrna. But, after all, the long loose gown, falling straight from the shoulders, and only caught in at the waist with a striped sash, would be very comfortable in the hot weather, though the wide, trailing sleeves would be dreadfully in the way. What Cecil disliked most in the costume was the head-dress, a little round cap, with a gauze veil, which could be brought over the face in case of need, depending from it behind. To wear this it was necessary that the hair should be plaited in a number of little tails, and allowed to hang down, since any arrangement of coils must interfere either with the cap or with the flow of the veil. For outdoor wear there was provided a huge linen wrapper, which enveloped the wearer from head to foot, but Cecil had resolutely refused to don the hideous horse-hair mask worn under this by the Baghdadi ladies. The absurdity of her appearance so overcame her while dressing, that she projected a caricature of herself for the benefit of the children at home; but even then she did not realise the difficulty of shuffling through the courtyard in her yellow slippers, and of mounting the donkey which was waiting for her. Lady Haigh had mercifully got all the gentlemen out of the way; but her own mirth was contagious, and she and Cecil relapsed into little explosions of laughter several times in the street.