Sometimes the taxes made him and the white beards very anxious, for all the money must be collected. But this year the harvest had been a good one, and only three men told Abdullah that they could not pay what was expected. The white beards were much displeased. They said, "You will make our faces black before our agha. We shall have to tell him, 'These three men only did not pay.' What he will do God knows. Our agha has many ferashes." The three men cried, and their wives screamed and tore their hair. They offered to pay one half, or three quarters, but the white beards only replied, "We must leave it to the agha." Finally, on the day before the agha arrived, the last shahi due was paid to Abdullah. The master looked very much pleased the next afternoon, when Abdullah and the white beards, with many bows, offered him the taxes in full, with a present of ten tomans and three large baskets of grapes besides. "You have made my face white," he said. "And you, kedkhoda; in all of my villages I have no one better than you. You have made my eyes to shine; speak, then, that I may make your face white. What wish have you?" "O agha!" replied Abdullah, "what we have done is nothing, it is dirt, and we are as the dirt under your feet. And yet, since you have stooped to notice me, and have filled my mouth with sugar by your words, I have indeed a request, that I shall make, since you so command. "I have a son. He is a worthless boy, indeed, and yet he has studied long with our mullah, and has read the holy Koran, and the books of the poets. If he could live with you, if only to sweep the straw for your horse's stall, why, then, indeed you would lift my head to the clouds and fill my mouth with laughing." "Is he with you?" asked the agha. "Let him enter." The man at the door called Karim, who was waiting outside, dressed in a new blue broadcloth coat. As he entered he bowed low, and then stood at the end of the room, politely covering his hands in his coat-sleeves. "What is your name?" asked the agha. "Thanks to God, your servant's name is Karim." "Which of our poets have you read?" "A few of the pearls of wisdom of Sheikh Sa'adi have lodged in my skull, thanks to the thumpings of our mullah." "Indeed," added Abdullah, proudly, "he is not stupid. If it please you, he can recite well." "It is well," said the agha. "Let me hear you, my lad." So Karim recited a poem, in a sing-song voice, as he had been trained by the mullah. As he closed the agha rubbed his hands with pleasure. "This is wonderful! Who would have expected such knowledge in a village peasant? You say that the mullah taught you. He shall have a reward for such faithful service. And you," he added, turning to Abdullah, "your request is granted. Nasr'ullah, my groom, will find a place for your son with him." [Illustration: THE GOVERNOR'S PALACE.] CHAPTER IX KARIM LEAVES HOME