"Here is a good subject to reason with," I reflected, and I produced every conceivable argument I could think of to prove how stupid he was to take up such a position. I might have been the Pope of Rome trying to convince an Ulsterman that "Home Rule" was the best thing that could happen to Ireland. It was left to me to solve the problem by suggesting an old woman should be trained to vaccinate, and sent in to the purdah women to operate on them. And this old lady is now hard at work. God alone knows what diseases she is spreading through the town with her dirty needles, for, of one thing I am convinced, once she is out of sight of the surgeon she will never trouble to clean them. As for the clerk's wife, quite unknown to him, and possibly to her, I have seen her unveiled and have not heard she has suffered in consequence. I am not hankering to see her face again, for of whatever charms she may be possessed this is most certainly not one. It is the sort of face that can only be improved upon by being covered up. She should therefore be encouraged to keep it well covered. CHAPTER XVIII SCANDAL Mrs Kar Krishna and Saleha--Mrs Ibrahim and a few reasons--Whisperings and consequences--Saleha's statement. Mrs Kar Krishna is the wife of a Hindu gentleman, and Mrs Krishna, who is a very nice woman, may be seen by common or garden Christians. She is very ill, and at times is in such pain that her screams may be heard all over the town. Saleha, an Arab purdah woman, the wife of a shop-keeper, lives near to Mrs Krishna, and, in the absence of her husband, has been known to run from her house, climb the stairs to Mrs Krishna's room and rub the poor woman's legs. That's what I have been told. As I happen to know the seat of Mrs Krishna's pain is situated higher up I can't conceive why Saleha should rub her legs instead of higher up. I'm not trying to be vulgar. I've heard exactly what is the matter with Mrs Krishna from Mr Kar Krishna. It's what you used to get when you were younger and ate of the apples that were green. It's a mysterious thing that she should suffer from a long protracted bout of "what you used to get," for there are no apples to be had here for love or money; and it is still stranger that, though Saleha's massaging did apparently do some good, the only reliable remedy is an injection of morphine. At least so Mrs Krishna says, and if she does not get it the pain becomes unbearable, and she screams--when Saleha will come to rub her legs.