'Good-night, Sinfi,' I said, shaking her hand; 'and now, Videy, I
will show you your room.'
'Oh, but Videy an' me sleeps togither, don't we?'
'Certainly, if you wish it,' I replied.
'She's afeard o' the "mullos,"' said Videy scornfully, as she went
and stood before an old engraved Venetian mirror I had picked up at
Chester, admiring her own perfect little figure reflected therein.
'Ever since she's know'd you she's bin afeard o' mullos, and keeps
Pharaoh with her o' nights; the mullos never come where there's a
crowin' cock.'
I did not look at Sinfi, but bent my eyes upon the mirror, where,
several inches above the reflex of Videy's sarcastic face, shone the
features of Sinfi, perfectly cut as those of a Greek statue.
'It's the dukkerin' dook [Footnote] as she's afeard on,' said Videy,
smiling in the glass till her face seemed one wicked glitter of
scarlet lips and pearly teeth. 'An' yit there ain't no dukkerin'
dook, an' there ain't no mullos.'
[Footnote: The prophesying ghost.]
Among the elaborately-engraved flowers and stars at the top of the
mirror was the representation of an angel grasping a musical
instrument.
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