h can help us."

"Oh yes, he knows everything pretty nearly; but he may not like being
disturbed now--he's writing, you know."

"Well, perhaps Victoria might be able to tell; she used to take care of
children."

So Victoria is summoned from the kitchen. She is a tall majestic
negress, who looks as if she had just stepped out of history. Her speech
does not quite come up to her stately mien.

"Why, what's de matter wi' de chile?" she queries.

All of Ralph's reply is lost except "daykumboa."

"Well, come 'long wi' Victoria--she git you kumboa. What, ain't gwine to
come? Oh laws! dat ain't bein' good bo'."

For Master Ralph has seated himself flatly on a footstool, and with his
back against the wall, refuses in the dumbest of dumb-show to be
entrapped into "gwine" anywhere.

Miss Helena suggests that they bring to him whatever they find that is
at all likely to be "daykumboa."

So at the feet of his Royal Highness is laid such a queer collection of
articles as never before appeared in that trim sitting-room: a _Child's
History of England_, a bottle of mucilage, a pair of scissors, a coal
shovel, a comb and brush, a bunch of flowers, a photograph album, a
bottle of ink, and goodness knows what besides. Miss Helena ransacks her
brains and her bureau, Miss Judith brings every portable in the room,
and Victoria literally squanders the contents of her larder, but all to
no purpose, and what is worse, his Highness, becoming alarmed at such
unusual behavior, begins to moan "Ont daykumboa" in a way that draws
tears to the eyes of his aunts.

"Judith," exclaims Miss Helena, "the case is getting desperate. We
_must_ send for Elijah, no matter if he does get angry.--Victoria, just
go to the study, and tell the Professor that he _must_ come here for a
few minutes. Do you hear--_must_!"

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 rea