"Miss Frances, you ain't gwine ride none o' Marse Tom's horses?" Tom had a stock-farm, some beauties, some beasts, all of them fiery.
"There's the prettiest colt here, just broken!"
"I's gwine to tell yo' pa!"
"Don't you dare; send my things. You hear?"
"Yes."
"And Susan," after a little wait, "has anybody been to see me?"
"Not a soul!" emphatically.
"Don't you tell anybody where I am, anybody, you hear. Good-by!" suddenly.
"Dat I won't."
Susan hung up the receiver. As she stepped off the stool the door-bell rang. She went to answer it nimbly, though she was bent with rheumatism. A young man stood on the single broad step above the pavement of the corridor.