rn, and there she fell under
the eye of Dr. Randolph Dorrington, Nan's father, who bought her
forthwith. He thought that a live doll would please his daughter. The
dwarf said that her name was Tasma Tid in her country, and she would
answer to no other.

It was a very fortunate bargain all around, especially for Nan, for in
the African woman she found both a playmate and a protector. Tasma Tid
was far above the average negro in intelligence, in courage and in
cunning. She was as obstinate as a mule, and no matter what obstacles
were thrown in her way, her own desires always prevailed in the end, a
fact that will explain her early appearance in the slave market. Those
of her owners who failed to understand her were not willing to see her
spoil on their hands, like a barrel of potatoes or a basket of shrimps.
The African was uncanny when she chose to be, outspoken, vicious, and
tender-hearted, her nature being compounded of the same qualities and
contradictions as those which belong to the great ladies of the earth,
who, with opportunity always at their elbows, have contrived to create a
great stir in the world.

When Dr. Dorrington fetched Tasma Tid home, he called out to Nan from
his gig: "I have brought you a live doll, daughter; come and see how you
like it."

Nan went running--she never learned how to walk until she was several
years older--and regarded Tasma Tid with both surprise and sympathy.
The African, seeing only the sympathy, leaped from the gig, seized Nan
around the waist, lifted her from the ground, ran this way and that, and
then released her with a loud and joyous laugh.

"What do you mean by that?" cried Nan, somewhat taken aback.

"She stan' fer we howdy," the African answered.

"Well, let's see you tell popsy howdy," suggested Nan, indicating her
father.

"Uh-uh! he we buckra."

From that hour Tasma Tid attached herself to Nan, following her
everywhere with the unquestioning fidelity of a dog. She sat on the
floor of the dining-room while Nan ate her meals, and slept on a pallet
by the child's bed at night. If the African was sweeping the yard, a
task she sometimes consented to perform, she would fling the brushbroom
away and go with Nan if the child started out at the gate. At first this
constant attendance was somewhat annoying to Nan, for she was an
independent lass; but presently, when she found that Tasma Tid was a
most accomplished and versatile playfellow, as well as the depositary of