"You are a governess. What can you teach?" he asked, suddenly and
fiercely thrusting his face in mine.

"Manners!" I replied, calmly.

"Ha! teach ME!"

"You mistake yourself," I said, adjusting my mittens. "Your manners
require not the artificial restraint of society. You are radically
polite; this impetuosity and ferociousness is simply the sincerity
which is the basis of a proper deportment. Your instincts are moral;
your better nature, I see, is religious. As St. Paul justly
remarks--see chap. 6, 8, 9, and 10--"

He seized a heavy candlestick, and threw it at me. I dodged it
submissively but firmly.

"Excuse me," he remarked, as his under jaw slowly relaxed. "Excuse me,
Miss Mix--but I can't stand St. Paul! Enough--you are engaged."

CHAPTER IV.

I followed the housekeeper as she led the way timidly to my room. As we
passed into a dark hall in the wing, I noticed that it was closed by an
iron gate with a grating. Three of the doors on the corridor were
likewise grated. A strange noise, as of shuffling feet and the howling
of infuriated animals, rang through the hall. Bidding the housekeeper
good night, and taking the candle, I entered my bedchamber.

I took off my dress, and, putting on a yellow flannel nightgown, which
I could not help feeling did not agree with my complexion, I composed
myself to rest by reading Blair's Rhetoric and Paley's Moral
Philosophy. I had just put out the light, when I heard voices in the
corridor. I listened attentively. I recognized Mr. Rawjester's stern
tones.

"Have you fed No. 1?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said a gruff voice, apparently belonging to a domestic.

"How's No. 2?"

"She's a little off her feed, just now, but will pick up in a day or
two!"

"And No. 3?"

"Perfectly furious, sir. Her tantrums are ungovernable."

"Hush!"

The voices died away, and I sank into a fitful slumber.

I dreamed that I was wandering through a tropical forest. Suddenly I
saw the figure of a gorilla approaching me. As it neared me, I
recognized the features of Mr. Rawjester. He held his hand to his side
as if in pain. I saw that he had been wounded. He recognized me and
called me by name, but at the same moment the vision changed to an
Ashantee village, where, around the fire, a group of negroes were
dancing and participating in some wild Obi festival. I awoke with the
strain still ringing in my ears.

"Hokee-pokee wokee fum!"

Good Heavens! could I be