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"What does all this mean?" asked Meg, quite surprised at Jen's excitement.,Mrs. Dallas considered.,"Try him, lover, and maybe he will—will learn to——" I couldn't help the tears that came to stop my words.,"He had heard that I accused him of taking the devil-stick," explained Maurice, "and came here to exculpate himself.",David left the room and remained absent for some time. On his return he stated that Dido had come with a message from Isabella, and that she refused to deliver it to anyone save the major. Seeing that the negress was thus insistent, and wondering what Miss Dallas might want with him at so painful a time, Jen yielded, and Dido was admitted into the library. She looked taller, more massive, and more sullen than ever, and though she trembled at the sight of Dr. Etwald--who, by the way, kept his dark eyes studiously fixed on her--she was fairly composed when she addressed the major.,I'll never forget my first real party. I was bridesmaid for Caroline Evans, when she married a Birmingham magnate, from which Hillsboro has never yet recovered. It was the week before the wedding. I was sixteen, felt dreadfully unclothed without a tucker in my dress, and saw Alfred for the first time in evening clothes—his first. I can hardly stand thinking about how he looked even now. I haven't been to very many parties in my life, but from this time on I mean to indulge in them often. Candle-light, pretty women's frocks, black coat sleeves, cut glass and flowers are good ingredients for a joy-drink, and why not?,Much to Patricia's surprise, Miss Jinny seemed not at all unused to the reticent Judith's caresses, but stooped and kissed her on her white forehead, rumpling her pale hair with kindly fingers.,Their new acquaintance of the corridor stopped at their table as she, too, made her way out.,Yes, I suppose it would have been lots better for my happiness if I had kept quiet about it all, but at the time I thought I had better consult him over the matter. Now I'm sorry I did. That is one thing about being a widow, you are accustomed to consulting a man, whether you want to or not, and you can't get over the habit immediately. Poor Mr. Carter, my husband, hasn't been dead much over six years, and I must be missing him most awfully, though just lately I can't remember not to forget about him a great deal of the time.,She knew very well what it was, for her grandmother had been carried off as a slave from the west coast of Africa, and knew all about Ashantee sorcery and fetish rites. These she had repeated to her granddaughter Dido, with the result that Dido, cherishing these recollections, knew exactly how to use the wand of sleep. She had spoken about it to Dr. Etwald, quite ignorant that Jen kept one as a curiosity, and now Etwald had intimated through Battersea that he wished her to do something in connection with the stick. What that something might be Dido at the present moment could not guess.,The others stared at him, and with the skepticism of thoroughly healthy minds refused to attach much importance to Etwald's mysticism. Jen was the first to speak, and he did so in rather a stiff way, quite different from his usual jovial style of conversation.,"Do you really think she killed him?" asked Lady Meg, her face growing pale with the intensity of her excitement..