A pleasant hour was spent in joyful surprises over pretty novelties and cherished souvenirs.  Rosa was full of quiet happiness, and Floracita expressed her satisfaction in lively little gambols.  The sun was going down when they refreshed themselves with the repast Tulipa had provided.  Unwilling to invite the merciless mosquitoes, they sat, while the gloaming settled into darkness, playing and singing melodies associated with other times.

Floracita felt sorry when the hour of separation for the night came.  Everything seemed so fearfully still, except the monotonous wash of the waves on the sea-shore!  And as far as she could see the landscape by the light of a bright little moon-sickle, there was nothing but a thick screen of trees and shrubbery.  She groped her way to her sleeping-apartment, expecting to find Tulee there.  She had been there, and had left a little glimmering taper behind a screen, which threw a fantastic shadow on the ceiling, like a face with a monstrous nose.  It affected the excitable child like some kind of supernatural presence.  She crept to the window, and through the veil of the mosquito-bar she dimly saw the same thick wall of greenery.  Presently she espied a strange-looking long face peering out from its recesses.  On their voyage home from Nassau, Gerald had sometimes read aloud to them from “The Midsummer Night’s Dream.”  Could it be that there were such creatures in the woods as Shakespeare described?  A closet adjoining her room had been assigned to Tulee.  She opened the door and said, “Tulee, are you there?  Why don’t you come?” There was no answer.  Again she gave a timid look at the window.  The long face moved, and a most unearthly sound was heard.  Thoroughly frightened, she ran out, calling, “Tulee!  Tulee!  In the darkness, she ran against her faithful attendant, and the sudden contact terrified her still more.

“It’s only Tulee.  What is the matter with my little one?” said the negress.  As she spoke, the fearful sound was heard again.

“O Tulee, what is that?” she exclaimed, all of a tremble.

“That is only Jack,” she replied.

“Who’s Jack?” quickly asked the nervous little maiden.

“Why, the jackass, my puppet,” answered Tulee.  “Massa Gerald bought him for you and Missy Rosy to ride.  In hot weather there’s so many snakes about in the woods, he don’t want ye to walk.”

“What does he make that horrid noise for?” asked Flora, somewhat pacified.

“Because he was born with music in him, like the rest of ye,” answered Tulee, laughing.

She assisted her darling to undress, arranged her pillows, and kissed her cheek just as she had kissed it ever since the rosy little mouth had learned to speak her name.  Then she sat by the bedside talking over things that had happened since they parted.

“So you were put up at auction and sold!” exclaimed Flora.  “Poor Tulee! how dreadfully I should have felt to see you there!  But Gerald bought you; and I suppose you like to belong to him.”