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“I hope Abdu'l Makkar won't be late with the strawberries,” he said.
“Strawberries?” I asked in amazement, for it was the middle of January.
“Oh yes, I've sent Abdu'l Makkar, who is a jinn, to New Zealand for some. Of course it's summer there. He oughtn't to be long now, if he has been good, but you know what jinns are, they have their faults, like the rest of us; curiosity, especially. When one sends them on long errands they will fly too high. They like to get up quite close to Heaven to overhear what the angels are saying, and then the angels throw shooting stars at them. Then they drop their parcels, or come home half scorched. He ought to be back soon, he's been away over an hour. Meanwhile we'll have some other fruit, in case he's late.”
And on and on and on the story goes, as if J. B. S. Haldane is writing down a weaving, winding tale of the life of a magician just as it comes to him, full of zany details like an octopus servant and flying carpets and visits with penguins that are oddly scientific.