25/26 You must do it." Babalatchi assented, and rose wearily to his feet. "To-morrow ?" he asked. He drinks much coffee," answered Lakamba, with seeming irrelevancy. I cannot sleep." At this order a deep shade of melancholy settled upon Babalatchi's features. He went reluctantly behind the curtain and soon reappeared carrying in his arms a small hand-organ, which he put down on the table with an air of deep dejection. |