This she did for two
or three days. One day, however, she came at an earlier hour, and made
signs to Bill that he must come over to her house. The rest of the
party offered to accompany him, but she very significantly showed that
she did not want their society. Bill went on, wondering what she could
require, though from her good-natured looks, he felt sure she intended
him no harm.

As they were going towards the house, he saw a number of black people in
gay dresses coming towards it from various quarters; and when he got
there, he found a large room almost full of negroes in ruffles and shirt
frills, and negresses in the gayest of gay gowns, somewhat scanty over
the shoulder, and fitting rather close to the figure. Bill found that
there was to be a black ball. At one end of the room sat, perched up on
the top of a cask, a fiddler, who began scraping away as he entered.

The guests were beginning to stand up for dancing, but Mammy Otello,
taking Bill by the hand, led him up to the musician, and made him
understand that he was to describe the tune he wanted to have played.
Bill sung out his tune as well as he could, and the fiddler made violent
attempts to imitate it. At length he succeeded to his own satisfaction,
if not to Bill's.

Mammy then led him back into the middle of the room, and made him
understand that he was to commence dancing.

"Well, you have been a kind old soul to us," he observed; "the only one
who has shown us any attention in this place; and I will do my best to
please you."

The musician began to play, and Bill began to dance, and very soon the
former seemed to understand exactly the sort of music required, and off
he went. The guests shouted and shrieked, and clapped their hands; and
the fiddler went on playing, and Bill went on dancing, and it seemed a
great question which would first grow tired.

"I'll do it, that I will," thought Bill to himself; "if it's only to see
these blackamoors grinning, and rolling their eyes, and shrieking, and
clapping their hands in the funny way they do."

At length, so eager did the spectators become, that they pressed closer
and closer upon the dancer, and Mammy Otello had to rush in and shove
them back with her stout arms to prevent him from being overwhelmed.

"Tired yet, old fellow?" shouted Bill, as he went on shuffling away and
kicking his heels; "I am not, let me tell you!"

The fiddler, although he might not have understood the words,
compr