"What's the news you have for me?"
"It is more than just a 'news,' howadji," corrected Najib with jealous
regard for shades of meaning. "It is a tidings. And it is this: You and
my poor self and the fellaheen and even those hell-selected pashalik
soldiers--we are all to be rich. Most especially _you,_ howadji.
Wealthiness bewaits us all. No longer shall any of us be downward and
outward from povertude. No more shall any of us toil early and
belatedly. We shall all live in easiness of hours and with much payment.
_Inshallah! Alhandulillah!"_ he concluded, his rising excitement for
once bursting the carefully nourished bounds of English and overflowing
into Arabic expletive.
Noting his own lapse into his native language, he looked sheepishly at
Kirby, as though hoping the American had not heard the break. Then, with
mounting eagerness, Najib struck the climax of his narrative.
"To speak with a briefness, howadji," he proclaimed grandiloquently. "We
have all stroked ourselfs!"
"You've all done--what?" asked the puzzled Kirby.
"Not we alone, howadji," amended Najib, "but you also! We would not
berich ourselves and leave you outward in the plan. It is you also who
are to stroke yourself. And--"
"For the love of Heaven!" exclaimed Kirby in sudden loss of patience.
"What are you driving at? What do you mean about 'stroking yourselves'?
Say it in Arabic. Then perhaps I can find what you mean."
"It is not to be said in the Arabic, howadji," returned Najib, wincing
at this slur on his English.
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