"Really!" said Etwald, quite self-possessed. "I suppose Mr. Alymer told you so. I thought as much," he continued, as Jen nodded. "He saw me calming Dido's agitation when I arrived to ask Mrs. Dallas for her daughter's hand. This negress is hysterical, and on that day she happened to be so. I quieted her, yet Mr. Alymer accuses me of having caused her illness.",
Without another word he left the room. His last glance showed that Dido had gathered her sobbing mistress in her arms, and was staring after him in a defiant manner. At the front door Jen heard his name called softly, and Isabella, with a rich color in her usually pale cheeks, came flying after him.,
I didn't read any more, but pushed it back in a hurry and went back to the company comforted in a way, but feeling a little more in sympathy with Mrs. Johnson than I had before Aunt Bettie and her guest from London had interrupted our algebraic demonstration on the man subject. You can't always be sure of the right answer to X in any proposition of life; that is, a woman can't!,
"I do, however," muttered Jen, divining that Dido had taken the usual route back to "The Wigwam."
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"No. I believe he found the devil-stick as he says. Within the grounds of Mrs. Dallas, mind you!",
"Time's up!" cried Patricia, jumping up. "Be on hand at the next rest, angel child. Come in the clay room 'immejit' the gong rings," and she hurried off, humming a gay little song.,
"I have only been certain of these things since our last interview. I lied to you then because Dido said if I told the truth she would accuse my mother of the murder.",
"Well, anyway, I'm fearfully hungry," she said airily. "I can't stand any more palaver. Come along to the cave and let us feed while there is time."
"Never mind, my dear lady, you will later on," retorted Jen, with a nod. Then turning to Battersea, he resumed his examination. "You know the negress. Dido, who is in the employment of Mrs. Dallas?" he asked, mildly.
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"Jane," I said, looking past her head, "my health is not very good, and you can bring my breakfast to me in bed after this." Poor Mr. Carter always wanted breakfast on the stroke of seven. Jane has buried husbands. Also her mother is our washerwoman, and influenced by Aunt Adeline. Jane understands everything I say to her. After I had closed the door I heard a laugh that sounded like a war-whoop, and I smiled to myself. But that was before my martyrdom to this book had begun. I get up now!
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It had been raining all the afternoon, a gentle persistent rain that gave no sign of clearing, and they decided, after a cozy dinner at home, that their projected trip to Rockham the next day would have to be given up; but when Bruce pulled aside the curtain from the studio window to compare his watch with the illuminated disc of the St. Francis clock tower, he gave an exclamation of satisfaction.
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"Sir, I took Dido out to the door, and while I was telling her to go away. Dr. Etwald came out. He told me he would see after her, and I left them alone. Now, sir," said Jaggard, with emphasis, "I do believe as Dr. Etwald took that black jade to the room of Mr. Maurice and hid her under the bed."
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>The two young people looked steadfastly at the brilliantly-colored figure of the negress, standing in a statuesque attitude near the great iron gate. On either side of her waved the summer foliage of the trees; overhead the sun, like a burning eye, looked down from a cloudless sky, and beyond, the dusty white road showed distinctly through the slender bars of the gate. All was bright and cheerful and English, but in that sinister red figure, with its black face and hands, there was a suggestion of evil which seemed to dominate and poison the whole beautiful scene. Maurice felt Isabella shudder with nervous dread as she pressed closely to his side.
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