dipped her face in fresh water in the willow-patterned basin in her
big attic bedroom. Then she washed her hands. And as she began to rub
the soap on she heard a noise.

'Your servant, miss. What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?'

And there was that footman again.

'Who are you?' said Fina. 'Why do you follow me about?'

'I am the Slave of the Ring, please, miss,' replied the footman, with
another bow. 'And, of course, when you rubs it I appears.'

'The Slave of the Ring?' said Fina, letting the soapsuds drip from her
hands to the carpet. 'Do you mean Aladdin's ring?'

'The ring belonged to the gentleman you mentions at one time, miss.'

'But I thought the Slave of the Ring was a genie--a great, foaming,
fierce, black slave in a turban.'

'Times is changed, miss,' said the footman. 'In this here civilised
country there aren't no slaves, only servants. You have to keep up with
the times, even if you're a----'

'But I thought the Slave of the Ring spoke Chinese?'

'So I does, miss, when in that country. But whatever'd be the use of
talking Chinese to you?'

'But tell me--oh, there's the dinner-bell! Look here, I wish you'd not
keep appearing so suddenly. It does startle me so.'

'Then don't you go on rubbing the ring sudden, miss. It's that as does
it. Nothing I can do for you, miss?'

'Not now,' said Fina, and he vanished as she spoke.

When Fina sat down to dinner in the farm kitchen--a very nice dinner it
was, boiled pork and beans, and a treacle-tart to follow--she picked up
her horn-handled knife and fork and clutched them hard. They felt real
enough. But the footman--she must have dreamed him, and the ring. She
had left the ring in the dressing-table drawer upstairs, for fear she
should rub it accidentally. She knew what a start it would give Miss
Patty and the farmer if a genie footman suddenly appeared from nowhere
and stood behind their chairs at dinner.

Miss Patty seemed very cheerful.

'It _was_ a piece of luck, father, wasn't it, that pedlar wanting
Chinese things? He gave me two pieces of broadcloth that'll cut into
three or four coats for you, and a length of black silk that rich it'll
stand alone, and ten pounds in gold, and half a dozen silk
neck-squares.'

'Yes,' said the farmer, 'it was a good bargain for you; and Bob give you
the pagoda, and you've a right to do as you like with your own.'

'Oh, Miss Patty,' said Fina, 'you've never been and sold the pagoda--the
beautifu