Master Ralph is spending the day with his relatives, and has gotten on with them very well so far, as his sister Daisy, two years his senior, whom he rules right royally, has acted as court interpreter; but she has just departed for a drive with a neighboring friend, and the aunts are left in sole charge of his Highness. He is very gracious at first, looks over a picture-book with Miss Helena, and makes eager but unintelligible remarks respecting the "bow-wows" and "moos," to which Miss Helena answers, "Um, dear," as being the safest thing to say. But now he is silent, and has been so for at least ten minutes. "How good Ralph is!" half whispers Miss Helena. His Highness pricks up his ears. "Yes, dear little fellow; and he has no one to play with, either." His Highness sits up--he speaks. [Illustration: "ONT DAYKUMBOA."] "Ont daykumboa." "What is it, dear?" says Miss Judith. "Ont daykumboa," repeats Master Ralph. "What does the child mean?" asks Miss Helena. "I don't know. What do you want, Ralphie?" Ralph, with a look of mingled contempt and pity at his stupid relatives, says, slowly but emphatically, "Ont daykumboa." "Perhaps he is hungry. I'll go and get him a piece of cake," says Miss Helena. The cake is brought, and promptly accepted; but it is evidently not the thing for which his soul longs, for after devouring half the slice he plaintively murmurs, "Ont daykumboa." "Well, isn't that daykumboa?" says Miss Judith. Ralph gives her a scornful look as sole answer, and finishes his cake in awful silence. As the last crumb disappears he sighs, "Ont daykumboa." "What on earth and under the sun does the child want!" is the combined exclamation of the aunts. "Perhaps Elijah can help us." "Oh yes, he knows everything pretty nearly; but he may not like being disturbed now--he's writing, you know." "Well, perhaps Victoria might be able to tell; she used to take care of children." So Victoria is summoned from the kitchen. She is a tall majestic negress, who looks as if she had just stepped out of history. Her speech does not quite come up to her stately mien. "Why, what's de matter wi' de chile?" she queries. All of Ralph's reply is lost except "daykumboa." "Well, come 'long wi' Victoria--she git you kumboa. What, ain't gwine to come? Oh laws! dat ain't bein' good bo'." For Master Ralph has seated himself flatly on a footstool, and with his back against the wall, refuses in the dumbest of dumb-show to be entrapped into "gwine" anywhere. Miss Helena suggests that they bring to him whatever they find that is at all likely to be "daykumboa."