Now, little Hassan wanted, as usual, to ride Albert Victor down from his
home to his habitual waiting-place in front of one of the big hotels. It
was such a delight to him to thrust his bare brown feet into the
stirrup-leathers (his legs were too short to reach the stirrups), and,
clutching Albert Victor's bridle, and sitting very erect, to fancy
himself very grand indeed as they slowly passed down the dim alleys of
their native town.

It was a glorious day, such a blue sky, such a bright sun, so different
from winter in our dull, foggy England, that little Elfreda felt very
happy as she looked out of the hotel window on such new and strange
sights.

"It seems like stories out of the Bible, mother," she cried, gazing at
the Eastern dresses, the queer-looking figures, the donkeys, and the
camels. For Elfreda and her mother had only lately come to Cairo for the
winter, for the mother's health, and everything was still wonderful to
her.

"Where shall we go to-day?" she added. "To the mosques, or through the
bazaars, or out a long way into the country by the river? Quick, mother;
let me call some donkey-boys, and let's be off."

"There's that little tiny boy just ridden up, he who comes every morning
with the big one! I _must_ have his donkey again!"

And Elfreda clapped her hands, and cried, "'Hamed!"

There were fifty 'Hameds, donkey-boys (it is a very common name). But
though several came up, they all knew that it was our friend who was
called.

"See," said little Hassan (he had jumped off Albert Victor and stood
behind him), "there is the same 'zit'" (English lady) "clapping again,
she who hired you yesterday and the day before; and with her the little
'zit' with the long hair. Hurry, 'Hamed! I'm sure she means you!"

Hassan was right. In a few minutes Elfreda was mounted on Albert Victor,
and was patting his gray neck and long ears.

"He's _such_ a nice donkey, mother; heaps nicer than the dull, tired
donkeys I ride when we go to the seaside! He's got some go about him!
Why, he can canter almost as nicely as my pony at home, and 'Hamed has
to run to keep up with him! I should just like to take him back to
England for a pet!"

"I wonder what little Hassan would say," remarked her mother. "He would
miss his daily ride on Albert Victor, and I don't think he would be very
happy in England in that costume. The village boys would jeer at him!"

"Well, perhaps the pony _is_ the best to ride at home, and Albert V