nfraction of certain laws, or, in these swift modern days, upon too
violent a departure from established social customs. It was manifestly
impossible that a child of such high quality as the grandson of her old
mistress should die by judicial strangulation; but nevertheless the
warning was a serious thing, and not to be lightly disregarded.

Not wishing to be considered as a prophet of evil omen, Jane kept her
own counsel in regard to this significant discovery. But later, after
the child was several days old, she filled a small vial with water in
which the infant had been washed, and took it to a certain wise old
black woman, who lived on the farther edge of the town and was well
known to be versed in witchcraft and conjuration. The conjure woman
added to the contents of the bottle a bit of calamus root, and one of
the cervical vertebrae from the skeleton of a black cat, with several
other mysterious ingredients, the nature of which she did not disclose.
Following instructions given her, Aunt Jane buried the bottle in
Carteret's back yard, one night during the full moon, as a good-luck
charm to ward off evil from the little grandson of her dear mistress, so
long since dead and gone to heaven.

II

THE CHRISTENING PARTY

They named the Carteret baby Theodore Felix. Theodore was a family name,
and had been borne by the eldest son for several generations, the major
himself being a second son. Having thus given the child two beautiful
names, replete with religious and sentimental significance, they called
him--"Dodie."

The baby was christened some six weeks after its birth, by which time
Mrs. Carteret was able to be out. Old Mammy Jane, who had been brought
up in the church, but who, like some better informed people in all ages,
found religion not inconsistent with a strong vein of superstition, felt
her fears for the baby's future much relieved when the rector had made
the sign of the cross and sprinkled little Dodie with the water from the
carved marble font, which had come from England in the reign of King
Charles the Martyr, as the ill-fated son of James I. was known to St.
Andrew's. Upon this special occasion Mammy Jane had been provided with a
seat downstairs among the white people, to her own intense satisfaction,
and to the secret envy of a small colored attendance in the gallery, to
whom she was ostentatiously pointed out by her grandson Jerry, porter at
the Morning Chronicle office, who sat among th