room at the back, where a little lame man was cleaning up things, and
told 'im to take his clothes off.

"If they was mine," he ses, squinting at the fire-place, "I should know
wot to do with 'em."

Rupert laughed and slapped 'im on the back, and, arter cutting his
uniform into pieces, stuffed it into the fireplace and pulled the dampers
out. He burnt up 'is boots and socks and everything else, and they all
three laughed as though it was the best joke in the world. Then Mr.
Alfredi took his coat off and, dipping a piece of rag into a basin of
stuff wot George 'ad fetched, did Rupert a lovely brown all over.

"That's the fust coat," he ses. "Now take a stool in front of the fire
and let it soak in."

He gave 'im another coat arf an hour arterwards, while George curled his
'air, and when 'e was dressed in bracelets round 'is ankles and wrists,
and a leopard-skin over his shoulder, he was as fine a Zulu as you could
wish for to see. His lips was naturally thick and his nose flat, and
even his eyes 'appened to be about the right color.

"He's a fair perfect treat," ses Mr. Alfredi. "Fetch Kumbo in, George."

The little man went out, and came back agin shoving in a fat, stumpy Zulu
woman wot began to grin and chatter like a poll-parrot the moment she saw
Rupert.

"It's all right," ses Mr. Alfredi; "she's took a fancy to you."