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“I should love to see it,” said Cecil, drawing a long breath, “but I shall never be able to afford an Eastern trip until I am quite old. When the boys are all off my hands, I mean to save up, so that I can travel about wherever I like when I am an ancient spinster. It would scarcely do for me to go out now and set up a girls’ High School under the shadow of the Residency, would it?”

“Scarcely,” laughed Lady Haigh; “and I am afraid, too, you would hardly get pupils enough to make it pay, except possibly among the Greeks and Armenians. The Turkish ladies are kept very closely secluded, and although the Pasha is very anxious to do what he can to introduce European customs, yet he is not even backed up by his own harem.”

“It must feel like being in the ‘Arabian Nights’ to live in Baghdad,” said Cecil.

“Wouldn’t you like to find out something about it from one of the natives?” asked Lady Haigh, indicating a tall, olive-complexioned gentleman a short distance off, clad in irreproachable evening-dress and a fez cap. “That is Denarien Bey, an Armenian gentleman whose family has lived in Baghdad for many generations. He is in England at present on some business for the Pasha, and would be delighted to tell you anything you wanted to know.”