She started off down the hall, through the thick blue haze which she could now tell was issuing from the servants’ quarters, and Amy, protesting, but evidently fearing to remain behind, walked behind her. Ruth had never been in the servants’ quarters, but she knew that they had rooms on the first floor, which was partly below the street level. As she passed she switched on the lights in the hall, illuminating the short flight of steps that led below. The door at the bottom was closed. At the top of the steps, Amy caught her arm.
“Don’t go, Mis’ Ruth—jes’ look through the keyhole once. The do’s locked—don’t knock, jes’ look once—”
Ruth shook off her restraining arm, but unconsciously she softened her footsteps, creeping almost noiselessly down the steps, while the black woman waited above. In the silence she could hear her frightened breathing. She had no intention of following Amy’s advice, but intended to knock boldly at the door and then to scold George for frightening his fellow servant. She was determined to do that even if George complained to his mistress, but when her foot touched the last step, something stronger than herself restrained her. She stood a moment with her heart beating against her ribs, and then, Ruth Mayfield, daughter of respectable parents, bent down in the attitude of a curious and untrustworthy servant and applied her eye to the keyhole. She knelt thus for many minutes before she finally rose and came back up the steps controlling by a strong effort of her will the inclination to look back over her shoulder as she had seen Amy do. At the top Amy took her arm and together they walked back through the hall.
At the foot of the stairway she turned her white face to Amy.
“You can come with me if you’ll promise not to say anything about this to Miss Mayfield, or to leave for a while at least.”
“I’ll promise anything, Mis’ Ruth, only take me with you—an’ I won’ tell—I ain’ ready to die yit.”
“It’s all just nonsense, Amy, only I don’t want to worry Gloria with it just now. You understand, it’s just nonsense,” she repeated with lips that trembled.
She slept fitfully that night, waking in the morning to the sound of Amy’s knocking at her door. She called to the servant to come in, eager to talk with her again before she had an opportunity to speak to Gloria. She came in with the breakfast tray, looking much as usual and apparently only too eager to ignore the events of the night before. She set the tray down and began rubbing her shoulders.
“I got a misery,” she whined, “the wu’k in this house is too ha’ad. They’se wu’uk enough here for foah and only two to do it all. I’se neber wu’uked in a big house like this befo’ less they was at least foah kep’. I’se a cook, I is, not a maid, and what not. Nex’ thing she’ll be askin’ me to do laundry.”
“Now, Amy, that isn’t fair. The house is big, but Miss Mayfield only uses about half of it, and you know she dines out almost more than in. Besides I don’t want you to go away yet. If you’ll stay I’ll ask Miss Mayfield to let you sleep up here all the time. I can tell her that I’m nervous up here so far away from every one and I’m sure she won’t mind.”