basin, and she put me to bed, and oh! how I slept--how I slept in that
little room behind the oven looking on the flower garden! I didn't know
Toby went to the Embuscade that night and bought me off Dr Karaguen for
twelve dollars and a dozen bottles of Seneca Oil. Karaguen wanted a new
lace to his coat, and he reckoned I hadn't long to live; so he put me
down as "discharged sick."

'I like Toby,' said Una.

'Who was he?' said Puck.

'Apothecary Tobias Hirte,' Pharaoh replied. 'One Hundred and Eighteen,
Second Street--the famous Seneca Oil man, that lived half of every year
among the Indians. But let me tell my tale my own way, same as his brown
mare used to go to Lebanon.'

'Then why did he keep her in Davy Jones's locker?' Dan asked. 'That was
his joke. He kept her under David Jones's hat shop in the "Buck" tavern
yard, and his Indian friends kept their ponies there when they visited
him. I looked after the horses when I wasn't rolling pills on top of
the old spinet, while he played his fiddle and Red Jacket sang hymns.
I liked it. I had good victuals, light work, a suit o' clean clothes, a
plenty music, and quiet, smiling German folk all around that let me
sit in their gardens. My first Sunday, Toby took me to his church in
Moravian Alley; and that was in a garden too. The women wore long-eared
caps and handkerchiefs. They came in at one door and the men at another,
and there was a brass chandelier you could see your face in, and a
nigger-boy to blow the organ bellows. I carried Toby's fiddle, and he
played pretty much as he chose all against the organ and the singing. He
was the only one they let do it, for they was a simple-minded folk. They
used to wash each other's feet up in the attic to keep 'emselves humble:
which Lord knows they didn't need.'

'How very queer!' said Una.

Pharaoh's eyes twinkled. 'I've met many and seen much,' he said; 'but I
haven't yet found any better or quieter or forbearinger people than the
Brethren and Sistern of the Moravian Church in Philadelphia. Nor will I
ever forget my first Sunday--the service was in English that week--with
the smell of the flowers coming in from Pastor Meder's garden where
the big peach tree is, and me looking at all the clean strangeness and
thinking of 'tween decks on the Embuscade only six days ago. Being a
boy, it seemed to me it had lasted for ever, and was going on for
ever. But I didn't know Toby then. As soon as the dancing clock struck
midnight