University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

I followed the housekeeper as she led the way
timidly to my room. As we passed into a dark hall
in the wing, I noticed that it was closed by an iron
gate with a grating. Three of the doors on the corridor
were likewise grated. A strange noise, as of
shuffling feet, and the howling of infuriated animals
rang through the hall. Bidding the housekeeper
good night, and taking the candle, I entered my bed-chamber.

I took off my dress, and, putting on a yellow flannel
night-gown, which I could not help feeling did
not agree with my complexion, I composed myself to
rest by reading Blair's Rhetoric and Paley's Moral
Philosophy. I had just put out the light, when I
heard voices in the corridor. I listened attentively.
I recognized Mr. Rawjester's stern tones.

“Have you fed No. 1?” he asked.

“Yes sir,” said a gruff voice, apparently belonging
to a domestic.

“How's No. 2?”

“She's a little off her feed, just now, but will pick
up in a day or two!”

“And No. 3?”

“Perfectly furious, sir. Her tantrums are ungovernable.”

“Hush!”

The voices died away, and I sank into a fitful
slumber.

I dreamed that I was wandering through a tropical
forest. Suddenly I saw the figure of a gorilla approaching
me. As it neared me, I recognized the features
of Mr. Rawjester. He held his hand to his side as if
in pain. I saw that he had been wounded. He recognized
me and called me by name, but at the same
moment the vision changed to an Ashantee village,
where, around the fire, a group of negroes were dancing
and participating in some wild Obi festival. I
awoke with the strain still surging in my ears.

Hokee-pokee wokee fum!”

Good Heavens! could I be dreaming? I heard
the voice distinctly on the floor below, and smelt
something burning. I arose, with an indistinct presentiment
of evil, and hastily putting some cotton in
my ears and tying a towel about my head, I wrapped
myself in a shawl and rushed down stairs. The door
of Mr. Rawjester's room was open. I entered.

Mr. Rawjester lay apparently in a deep slumber,

from which even the clouds of smoke that came
from the burning curtains of his bed could not rouse
him. Around the room a large and powerful negress,
scantily attired, with her head adorned with
feathers, was dancing wildly, accompanying herself
with bone castanets. It looked like some terrible
fetich.

I did not lose my calmness. After firmly emptying
the pitcher, basin and slop-jar on the burning
bed, I proceeded cautiously to the garden, and, returning
with the garden-engine, I directed a small
stream at Mr. Rawjester.

At my entrance the gigantic negress fled. Mr.
Rawjester yawned and woke. I explained to him, as
he rose dripping from the bed, the reason of my
presence. He did not seem to be excited, alarmed
or discomposed. He gazed at me curiously.

“So you risked your life to save mine, eh? you
canary-colored teacher of infants?”

I blushed modestly, and drew my shawl tightly
over my yellow flannel night-gown.

“You love me, Mary Jane—don't deny it! This
trembling shows it!” He drew me closely toward
him, and said, with his deep voice tenderly modulated:

“How's her pooty tootens—did she get her 'ittle
tootens wet—bess her?”

I understood his allusion to my feet. I glanced
down and saw that in my hurry I had put on a pair
of his old India-rubbers. My feet were not small or
pretty, and the addition did not add to their beauty.

“Let me go, sir,” I remarked quietly. “This is
all improper; it sets a bad example for your child;”
and I firmly but gently extricated myself from his
grasp. I approached the door. He seemed for a
moment buried in deep thought.

“You say this was a negress?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Humph, No. 1, I suppose?”

“Who is Number One, sir?”

“My first,” he remarked, with a significant and
sarcastic smile. Then, relapsing into his old manner,
he threw his boots at my head, and bade me begone.
I withdrew calmly.