On reaching the landing at the foot of the stairs she found Lamia engaged in brightening the knobs of the parlor doors.
“Where is your master?” she inquired of the girl.
“In de liberary, a tearin’ up and down de room like Old Black Sam was into him—beggin’ yer pardon for sayin’ ob sich things, Miss Glo’. Does you want me to go and tell him you’d like to see him ’fore you goes out?”
“No, not at all,” replied the young lady.
“Well, where shall I say you is gone, if he ax me, Miss Glo’?”
“Tell him that I have gone to take a long walk, and he is not to wait dinner for me.”
“And when shall I say you’ll be back, Miss Glo’?”
“You needn’t tell him when, for I don’t know myself.”
“Well, so as you gets back ’fore sun-down, I s’pose marse will be satisfied,” said the unsuspicious girl, as she resumed her rubbing of the brass knob then under her hand.
Gloria then left the house to hasten on her mad errand.