“Is it your custom never to eat?” “No, for every morning I go into the city to sell my veils, and with the few shillings I get for them I buy all we want. To-day I did not cross the bridge, so of course I had nothing for food.” “Then I am the cause of your having gone hungry all day?” asked the head. “Yes, you are,” answered the old woman. “Well, then, I will give you money and plenty of it, if you will only do as I tell you. In an hour, as the clock strikes twelve, you must be on the bridge at the place where you met me. When you get there call out ‘Ahmed,’ three times, as loud as you can. Then a negro will appear, and you must say to him: ‘The head, your master, desires you to open the trunk, and to give me the green purse which you will find in it.’” “Very well, my lord,” said the old woman, “I will set off at once for the bridge.” And wrapping her veil round her she went out. Midnight was striking as she reached the spot where she had met the head so many hours before. “Ahmed! Ahmed! Ahmed!” cried she, and immediately a huge negro, as tall as a giant, stood on the bridge before her. “What do you want?” asked he. “The head, your master, desires you to open the trunk, and to give me the green purse which you will find in it.” “I will be back in a moment, good mother,” said he. And three minutes later he placed a purse full of sequins in the old woman’s hand. No one can imagine the joy of the whole family at the sight of all this wealth. The tiny, tumble-down cottage was rebuilt, the girls had new dresses, and their mother ceased selling veils. It was such a new thing to them to have money to spend, that they were not as careful as they might have been, and by-and-by there was not a single coin left in the purse. When this happened their hearts sank within them, and their faces fell. “Have you spent your fortune?” asked the head from its corner, when it saw how sad they looked. “Well, then, go at midnight, good mother, to the bridge, and call out ‘Mahomet!’ three times, as loud as you can. A negro will appear in answer, and you must tell him to open the trunk, and to give you the red purse which he will find there.” The old woman did not need twice telling, but set off at once for the bridge. “Mahomet! Mahomet! Mahomet!” cried she, with all her might; and in an instant a negro, still larger than the last, stood before her. “What do you want?” asked he. “The head, your master, bids you open the trunk, and to give me the red purse which you will find in it.” “Very well, good mother, I will do so,” answered the negro, and, the moment after he had vanished, he reappeared with the purse in his hand.