A Woman Named Smith | Page 6

aching for a china dog ever since she was born.
"Oh, Sophy!" cried she, dancing, "wasn't it heavenly of that old soul to
die and leave you two whole china dogs! I wouldn't want sure-enough
dogs that looked like these, but as china dogs they're perfect! And cast
your eyes about you, Sophy! Have you ever in all your life seen a house
that needed so much done to it as this house does?
"'If seven maids with seven mops, Swept it for half a year, Do you
suppose,' the Walrus said, 'That that would make it clear?' 'I doubt it,'
said the Carpenter, 'And--'
"Sophy! I shall clean some of these windows myself. Did you know
that Queen Victoria, when she was a child, had the same virtuous
inclination? Well, she had, and you see how she turned out!"
"I don't believe it!"
"Don't be skeptical!--Look at that pink mustache-cup over there on that
little table! Who do you suppose had a mustache and drank out of that
cup? It couldn't have been Sophronisba herself? I insist that it was a
black-mustached Confederate with a red sash around his waist. I adore
Confederates! They're the most glamorous, romantic figures in
American history. I wish a black mustache went along with the cup and
the house; don't you? It would make things so much more interesting!"
And she began to sing, at the top of her voice, in the sad and faded

room that hadn't heard a singing voice these many, many years:
"'Arrah, Missis McGraw,' the Captain said, 'Will ye make a sojer av
your son Ted? Wid a g-r-rand mus-tache, an' a three-cocked hat, Wisha,
Missis McGraw, wouldn't you like that! _You like that--tooroo looroo
loo!_ _Wisha, Missis McGraw, wouldn't you like that!_'"
If Great-Aunt Sophronisba's ghost, and the scandalized ghosts of all the
haughy Hyndses ever intended to walk, now was the accepted time!
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 cream, a great
slab of heavenly cake, a wicker basket of Elberta peaches, rain-cooled,

odorous, delicious, and a pot of steaming coffee. On the edge of the
tray was a cluster of rain-washed roses.
"No," Alicia doubted, "this is not true: it can't be!--Sophy, do you see it,
too?"
He motioned her to take the tray; and his ear-rings swung, and all his
bracelets set up a silver tinkling. An automobile honked outside in the
street shut off by our garden trees, and a dog barked. Our jinnee cocked
a cautious head and a listening ear, thrust the tray upon Alicia, and with
inconceivable swiftness vanished around a corner.
"Let's hurry and eat it before it, too, takes to its heels," said Alicia,
practically. Without further ado we dragged forward a small table, and
fell to. Aladdin probably tasted fare like that, the first time he rubbed
the magic lamp.
When we had polished the last chicken bone, and had that comfortable
feeling that nothing can give so thoroughly as a good meal, Alicia
carefully examined the china and silver.
"Old blue-and-white English china; English silver initialed 'R.H.G.'
Sophy, handle this prayerfully: it's an apostle spoon. Think of having a
jinnee fetch you your coffee, and of stirring it with an apostle spoon."
She spoke reverently. Alicia is the sort who flattens her nose against
antique-shop windows, and would go without dessert for a month of
Sundays and trudge afoot to save carfare, if thereby she