Down
the lane a piece lived an elephant in the shade of a noble tree, and
rocked and rocked, and reached about with his trunk, begging of his brown
mistress or fumbling the children playing at his feet. And there were
camels about, but they go on velvet feet, and were proper to the silence
and serenity of the surroundings.
The Satan mentioned at the head of this chapter was not our Satan, but
the other one. Our Satan was lost to us. In these later days he had
passed out of our life--lamented by me, and sincerely. I was missing
him; I am missing him yet, after all these months. He was an astonishing
creature to fly around and do things. He didn't always do them quite
right, but he did them, and did them suddenly. There was no time wasted.
You would say:
"Pack the trunks and bags, Satan."
"Wair good" (very good).
Then there would be a brief sound of thrashing and slashing and humming
and buzzing, and a spectacle as of a whirlwind spinning gowns and jackets
and coats and boots and things through the air, and then with bow and
touch--
"Awready, master."
It was wonderful.
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