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So far from pouring my opinions like so much boiling oil into the ear of my task-master, I was content to play the part of audience while he did the talking, my sole remark being 'Yes'r' at fixed intervals. And yet I knew that I was in the right. My bosom throbbed with the justice of my cause. For why?
"What the deuse are you making such a racket for?" he exclaimed in tones that thrilled to the heart of his employee; then, without waiting for an answer, he slightly glanced at the table, and asked, "Have you got through that job?" "Yes'm I mean, yes'r" replied the quivering Simon. "Well, then, you can go. I'm going myself. You blow out the lights and lock the room.
I asked the coloured woman who opened the door. "She did, mistah but she done gone left, dis mawnin'." "Do you know where she has gone?" "Yes'r, she done squeezed in wif ol' Mammy Jackson," and she pointed out the tenement. As I passed down the steps I noticed a small pile of furniture on the sidewalk. Something impelled me to ask about it.
"Yes'r," the negress said, "dem's her house traps; d' landlord done gone frow'd dem out." I found her sitting with an old negress by the stove in a second-floor back tenement. "I bring you a message of love from your mother," I said, without making myself known. We talked for a few minutes. I saw nothing whatever of the girl of long ago.
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