“And I’ve never forgiven you for that first day,” she retorted, nodding her head in a way suggestive of some dire punishment waiting for him in the future. “It was dreadful, the way he led me on to say things, Aunt Sajane, for how was I to guess he was the doctor? I was expecting a man like––well, like Dr. Allison, only more so; very learned, very severe, with eye glasses through which he would examine us as though we were new specimens discovered in the wilds of America. I certainly did not expect to find a frivolous person who wore daisies, and––oh!” as she caught a glimpse of some one coming up the path from the landing––“there comes Nelse. Gertrude, can’t I have him in here?”
“May I ask if Nelse is one of the five distinguished by your colors?” asked Delaven.
“Nelse is distinguished by his own colors, which is a fine mahogany, and he is the most interesting old reprobate in Carolina––a wizard, if you please––a sure enough voodoo doctor, and the black historian of the Salkahatchie. May I call him?”
“I really do not think uncle likes to have him around,” said Gertrude, dubiously; “still––oh, yes, call him if you like. Don’t let him tire you with his stories; and keep him out of uncle’s way. He would be sure to tell him about those late runaways.”
“I promise to stand guard in that case myself, Miss Loring; for I have a prejudice against allowing witch-doctors access to my patients.”
Mrs. Nesbitt arose as if to follow Gertrude from the room, hesitated, and resumed her chair.
“When I was a girl we young folks were all half afraid of Nelse––not that he ever harmed any one,” she confessed. “The colored folks said he was a wizard, but I never did give credit to that.”
“Aunt Chloe, she says he is!”