bitha's door, keeping so good a watch that once when her father
wished to enter the room to fetch something after the child was sleep,
she would not allow even him to do so. When he tried to force a way past
her, suddenly Ivana became so threatening that he thought she was about
to spring at him. After this he wanted to dismiss her, but Dorcas said
it only showed that she was faithful, and that she had better be left
where she was, especially as there was no one to take her place.

So things went on till the day of full moon. On that night Ivana
appeared to be much agitated, and insisted that Tabitha should go to bed
earlier than was usual. Also after she was asleep Dorcas noticed that
Ivana walked continually to and fro in front of the door of the child's
room and up and down the veranda on to which its windows opened, droning
some strange song and waving a wand.

However, at the appointed hour, having said their prayers, Dorcas and
her husband went to bed.

"I wonder if there is anything strange about this place," remarked
Dorcas. "It is so very odd that no native will stop here at night except
that half-wild Ivana."

"Oh! I don't know," replied Thomas with a yawn, real or feigned. "These
people get all sorts of ideas into their silly heads. Do stop twisting
about and go to sleep."

At last Dorcas did go to sleep, only to wake up again suddenly and with
great completeness just as the church clock below struck three,
the sound of which she supposed must have roused her. The brilliant
moonlight flooded the room, and as for some reason she felt creepy and
disturbed, Dorcas tried to occupy her mind by reflecting how comfortable
it looked with its new, imported furnishings, very different from that
horrible hut in which they had lived so long.

Then her thoughts drifted to more general matters. She was heartily
tired of Sisa-Land, and wished earnestly that her husband could get
a change of station, which the Bishop had hinted to her would not be
impossible--somewhere nearer to civilisation. Alas! he was so obstinate
that she feared nothing would move him, at any rate until he had
converted "Menzi's herd," who were also obstinate, and remained as
heathen as ever. Indeed why, with their ample means, should they be
condemned to perpetual exile in these barbarous places? Was there not
plenty of work to be done at home, where they might make friends and
live decently?

Putting herself and her own wishes aside, this exis