And as if that graceless ballad were the signal for something to
happen, upon the hall window-shutter sounded three loud, imperative
knocks.

Alicia dashed down the hall.

"Sophy!" she called, breathlessly, "Sophy!"

Framed in the open window, with the dripping trees and the slanting
rain behind him, was the bizarre, the astounding figure of a
gnomelike negro in a terra-cotta robe fastened about the waist with
a girdle made of a twisted black shawl with the most beautiful
Persian border and fringe. A striped silk scarf was bound
turban-wise about his head, from which tufts of snowy wool
protruded. From his ears hung crescent-shaped silver ear-rings
studded with coral and turquoise; a necklace of the same barbaric
magnificence was about his neck, and his arms were covered with
bracelets. His deep-set eyes, his flat nose, his mouth set in a
thousand fine wrinkles, the whole aspect of him, breathed a sly and
impish drollery. He glanced from Alicia to me with the smiling
malice of a jinnee delighted to mystify mortals. Then with a rapid
movement he shifted the umbrella he carried over a large
linen-covered tray, eased the latter upon the deep window-ledge, and
beckoned with a very black and beringed hand.

"For _us_?" breathed Alicia.

With a fine flourish he swept aside the linen covering. And there
was golden-brown chicken, white rice, cream gravy, hot biscuit, cool
sliced tomatoes with sprigs of green parsley, fresh butter, fresh