Victoria, looking as scared as only a solemn-natured darky can look, departs, and returns speedily with the Professor.
"Is anything the matter with Alcibiades?" he asks. Alcibiades, be it known, is what the Professor always calls Ralph—"for short," he says.
"He is in a most peculiar condition, Elijah—persists in calling for daykumboa, and we can not understand what he means."
"What is it that you want, my boy?" inquires the Professor, bending his dignified back and knees, so as to bring his gray head on a level with Ralph's "curly pow."
Ralph turns to him with an expression of relief, as much as to say, "Well, here's a reasonable being at last," and explains, "Ont daykumboa."
"And what is daykumboa?" says the Professor.
"Daykumboa," repeats Ralph, with a lingering hope that perhaps he is going to get some satisfaction; but this creature is just as dull as the rest, and his Highness, with great want of dignity, begins to whimper.
"The child seems to be in pain," says the Professor, standing up, and regarding his nephew with concern. "Perhaps he has hurt himself."
"I never thought of that," cries Miss Judith.—"Have you hurt yourself, Ralphie?"
"Ont daykumboa," is the only response.