“You think she will be kind to her?”
“Sure she will! She’s kind to all the girls who work for her. Only she’s awfully particular. You ought to see her going around after them when they sweep and dust. Oh! if they leave a speck of dust—— M-m-m!”
“I hope she’ll take Cynthia on,” sighed Beth, as they reached the top of the stairs.
Two corridors branched away, right and left, from the gallery around the hall.
“I tell you how we’ll find out about Cynthia—maybe,” said Molly. “We’ll ask Jonas. Come on! We want our bags, too. He’ll be waiting at the elevator in the south wing.”
She started along the corridor into the wing in question, and then mounted ahead of Beth another flight to the third floor. They met no other girls, although some of the doors were open and Beth caught glimpses of pleasant interiors and groups of gossiping girls.
They finally came, panting, to the elevator cage, where a shiny-faced negro boy sat on his stool inside the car, with the bags belonging to the two girls at his feet.
“I’m yere, Miss Molly,” he said, grinning at the girl he knew.
“I see you, Jonas,” she said, collecting her suitcase and bag. “I’ve had my eyes treated while I was home and I can see pretty well now, Jonas.”
“He! he!” giggled the black boy.