Alicia dashed down the hall.

“Sophy!” she called, breathlessly, “Sophy!”

Framed in the open window, with the dripping trees and the slanting rain behind him, was the bizarre, the astounding figure of a gnomelike negro in a terra-cotta robe fastened about the waist with a girdle made of a twisted black shawl with the most beautiful Persian border and fringe.  A striped silk scarf was bound turban-wise about his head, from which tufts of snowy wool protruded.  From his ears hung crescent-shaped silver ear-rings studded with coral and turquoise; a necklace of the same barbaric magnificence was about his neck, and his arms were covered with bracelets.  His deep-set eyes, his flat nose, his mouth set in a thousand fine wrinkles, the whole aspect of him, breathed a sly and impish drollery.  He glanced from Alicia to me with the smiling malice of a jinnee delighted to mystify mortals.  Then with a rapid movement he shifted the umbrella he carried over a large linen-covered tray, eased the latter upon the deep window-ledge, and beckoned with a very black and beringed hand.

“For us?” breathed Alicia.

With a fine flourish he swept aside the linen covering.  And there was golden-brown chicken, white rice, cream gravy, hot biscuit, cool sliced tomatoes with sprigs of green parsley, fresh butter, fresh cream, a great slab of heavenly cake, a wicker basket of Elberta peaches, rain-cooled, odorous, delicious, and a pot of steaming coffee.  On the edge of the tray was a cluster of rain-washed roses.

“No,” Alicia doubted, “this is not true:  it can’t be!—­Sophy, do you see it, too?”

He motioned her to take the tray; and his ear-rings swung, and all his bracelets set up a silver tinkling.  An automobile honked outside in the street shut off by our garden trees, and a dog barked.  Our jinnee cocked a cautious head and a listening ear, thrust the tray upon Alicia, and with inconceivable swiftness vanished around a corner.

“Let’s hurry and eat it before it, too, takes to its heels,” said Alicia, practically.  Without further ado we dragged forward a small table, and fell to.  Aladdin probably tasted fare like that, the first time he rubbed the magic lamp.

When we had polished the last chicken bone, and had that comfortable feeling that nothing can give so thoroughly as a good meal, Alicia carefully examined the china and silver.

“Old blue-and-white English china; English silver initialed ‘R.H.G.’  Sophy, handle this prayerfully:  it’s an apostle spoon.  Think of having a jinnee fetch you your coffee, and of stirring it with an apostle spoon.”