What his real name was nobody knew, but he said that he was called Battersea, after the parish in which he had been reared as a foundling.
Battersea was cringing, dirty, and altogether an unpleasant object to look upon; but Isabella was sorry for the creature, and aided him with food and a trifle of money. It may be here mentioned that Battersea, although he knew nothing of Obi, was terribly afraid of Dido. Perhaps some instinct in the negro blood--for he undoubtedly had something African in his veins--made him fear this unknown priestess of fetish worship.
"Well, Battersea," said Isabella, kindly, "how are you to-day?"
"Very well, lady, very well, indeed. I met Mr. Alymer, and he gave me half a crown."
"That was generous of him. But why?"
"Because I said that a certain lady was--"
"Now, now," laughed Isabella, "no more of that nonsense, Battersea." She turned and ran along the veranda into the house. The tramp and the negress were alone.
"What de doctor say?" asked Dido, in a low-voiced whisper.
"Two words. The devil-stick!"
The negress started and threw up her hands in surprise.