'Thank you,' said Fina, sobbing, but polite; 'no one can do anything for me, unless they can mend all this, and of course nobody can.' 'Your servant, miss,' said the footman. 'Do I understand that you order me to mend this?' 'If you can,' said Fina, a ray of hope lighting her blighted existence; 'but, of course----WHAT?' The pagoda stood on the table _mended_! Indeed, it seemed as though there had never been any breaking. It was there, safe and sound as it had always been, on its ebony stand, with the shining bubble of its glass case rising dome-like over it. The footman had vanished. '_Well!_' said Fina, 'I suppose it was all a waking dream. How horrible! I've read of waking dreams, but I didn't know there were ever waking nightmares. Perhaps I better _had_ wash my hands--and my face,' she added, when she saw it, round, red, and streaked with mud (made of dust and tears), in the glass of the chiffonnier. She dipped her face in fresh water in the willow-patterned basin in her big attic bedroom. Then she washed her hands. And as she began to rub the soap on she heard a noise. 'Your servant, miss. What can I have the pleasure of doing for you?' And there was that footman again. 'Who are you?' said Fina. 'Why do you follow me about?' 'I am the Slave of the Ring, please, miss,' replied the footman, with another bow. 'And, of course, when you rubs it I appears.' 'The Slave of the Ring?' said Fina, letting the soapsuds drip from her hands to the carpet. 'Do you mean Aladdin's ring?' 'The ring belonged to the gentleman you mentions at one time, miss.' 'But I thought the Slave of the Ring was a genie--a great, foaming, fierce, black slave in a turban.' 'Times is changed, miss,' said the footman. 'In this here civilised country there aren't no slaves, only servants. You have to keep up with the times, even if you're a----' 'But I thought the Slave of the Ring spoke Chinese?' 'So I does, miss, when in that country. But whatever'd be the use of talking Chinese to you?' 'But tell me--oh, there's the dinner-bell! Look here, I wish you'd not keep appearing so suddenly. It does startle me so.' 'Then don't you go on rubbing the ring sudden, miss. It's that as does it. Nothing I can do for you, miss?' 'Not now,' said Fina, and he vanished as she spoke. When Fina sat down to dinner in the farm kitchen--a very nice dinner it was, boiled pork and beans, and a treacle-tart to follow--she picked up her horn-handled knife and fork and clutched them hard. They felt real enough. But the footman--she must have dreamed him, and the ring. She had left the ring in the dressing-table drawer upstairs, for fear she should rub it accidentally. She knew what a start it would give Miss Patty and the farmer if a genie footman suddenly appeared from nowhere and stood behind their chairs at dinner. Miss Patty seemed very cheerful.