“Oh yes, you can. Read the next paragraph, the one beginning: ‘The unhappy natives of the Upper Niger.’ It tells about gas-pipe guns and coal-dust powder. Yes, mother dear, going now.”
It was quite dark, of course, when I brought Minkie to the station a second time. The weather had changed, too, from what the farmers call “soft” to a touch of frost, which made both Jim and me pleased that my shoes had been sharped by the blacksmith that morning.
The train was rather late, so Minkie went into the station and interviewed a porter. He told her something which seemed to interest her, so she asked the booking-clerk for change of a sovereign and gave the man a shilling.
She picked out her father the instant the train drew up at the platform. He looked worried, she told me afterwards, but that passed when he saw her. He had the usual number of parcels which people carry at Christmas time, and Minkie grabbed all of them, but he stopped her with a laugh.
“We can’t rush off in the orthodox way to-night, Minkie,” he said. “Mr. Schwartz’s servant is on this train, and I promised to take him with us to the house. By the way, is Dandy with you in the carriage?”
“No, father dear. Why do you ask?”
“Because this valet of Schwartz’s is a black man, and Dandy might not approve of him at first sight.”
“A black man.”
“Yes, polished ebony. Rather smart, too. Speaks English perfectly. He came to me at Waterloo and said—Oh, there he is. Hi, you. Just follow me, will you.”
Minkie thought that the negro was an extraordinarily fine fellow, and very well dressed. It was odd that Schwartz had not mentioned him, and she wondered where he would sleep. Perhaps he curled up on a mat outside his master’s room. In that case, she must make Dan clearly understand that she rather approved of the Ethiopian than otherwise.