Then, almost instantly, she remembered where she was and what she had to do.
She arose quickly, opened her windows, bathed and dressed, and went to the elevator.
Mrs. Brown’s son, George, a lad fourteen years old, was on duty. She bade him good-morning, and went all the way down to “Rebecca’s Well,” as the restaurant in the basement was daintily called.
It was late, and there was no one in the place except the very tall, very gaunt and very black waiter with the baleful name.
She seated herself at one of the smaller tables and touched the bell.
’Pollyon Syphax came to her at once. She ordered breakfast, and was promptly served.
Then she asked the waiter if he could direct her to the house occupied by Lucy and her boy Tom.
“Yo’ can’t miss ob it, ma’am. It is yight in de bit o’ woods lef’ back ob dis yere house,” he told her.
So, as soon as she had finished her breakfast she went upstairs to her room, put on her walking jacket, hat and gloves, and went down and out to find her colored friends.
She had only to go to the corner of the building, turn into an open brier and thistle-grown lot, and cross it to the bit of wood at the back of the big house.