though his mouth was partly hidden by a mustache and beard. His nose
was large and flat. It looked like a dirty piece of putty thrown at
haphazard on a black background. Beth, however, did not mind his
homeliness.

"He's nice, and the horse is beautiful," she said.

"Then let's go down and talk to the man."

As Mr. Davenport and Beth walked to the side of the darky, he lifted
his stovepipe hat that had been brushed until the silk was wearing
away. He revealed thereby a shock of iron-gray wool. He made a
sweeping bow.

"Massa, am dis de little missy dat yo' wuz tellin' 'bout? I'se
powerful glad to meet yo', missy."

He was so very polite that even irrepressible Beth was a little awed.
She hid halfway behind her father.

"This is January, Beth."

"What a very queer name," she whispered.

"It is queer, but you are in a strange land. For awhile you'll think
you are in fairy-land. Everything will be so different. Do you want
to stay with January while I go in to bring your mother?"

She nodded that she did. Mr. Davenport reëntered the hotel. Beth
seated herself upon the curbstone, and looked at the bay horse behind