For the rest she rolled herself in blankets, native fashion, and slept across Tabitha’s door, keeping so good a watch that once when her father wished to enter the room to fetch something after the child was asleep, she would not allow even him to do so. When he tried to force a way past her, suddenly Ivana became so threatening that he thought she was about to spring at him. After this he wanted to dismiss her, but Dorcas said it only showed that she was faithful, and that she had better be left where she was, especially as there was no one to take her place. So things went on till the day of full moon. On that night Ivana appeared to be much agitated, and insisted that Tabitha should go to bed earlier than was usual. Also after she was asleep Dorcas noticed that Ivana walked continually to and fro in front of the door of the child’s room and up and down the veranda on to which its windows opened, droning some strange song and waving a wand. However, at the appointed hour, having said their prayers, Dorcas and her husband went to bed. “I wonder if there is anything strange about this place,” remarked Dorcas. “It is so very odd that no native will stop here at night except that half-wild Ivana.” “Oh! I don’t know,” replied Thomas with a yawn, real or feigned. “These people get all sorts of ideas into their silly heads. Do stop twisting about and go to sleep.” At last Dorcas did go to sleep, only to wake up again suddenly and with great completeness just as the church clock below struck three, the sound of which she supposed must have roused her. The brilliant moonlight flooded the room, and as for some reason she felt creepy and disturbed, Dorcas tried to occupy her mind by reflecting how comfortable it looked with its new, imported furnishings, very different from that horrible hut in which they had lived so long. Then her thoughts drifted to more general matters. She was heartily tired of Sisa-Land, and wished earnestly that her husband could get a change of station, which the Bishop had hinted to her would not be impossible—somewhere nearer to civilisation. Alas! he was so obstinate that she feared nothing would move him, at any rate until he had converted “Menzi’s herd,” who were also obstinate, and remained as heathen as ever. Indeed why, with their ample means, should they be condemned to perpetual exile in these barbarous places? Was there not plenty of work to be done at home, where they might make friends and live decently?