"What you talkin' 'bout, you sassy niggah?" asked Agnes, coming up behind her on her way to Mrs. Raymond's apartments with another basket of clean clothes, just as Gracie reappeared and hurried up the stairs to the story above."
"Why, Miss Gracie done come pounce on ole Tab while she paradin' down de hall, and ketch her up an' tote her off into Miss Wilet's dressin'-room, an's lef her dar wid de do' shut on her. What for you s'pose she done do dat?"
"Oh, go 'long! I don' b'lieve Miss Gracie didn't do no sich ting!" returned Agnes.
"She did den, I seed her," asserted the little maid positively. "Mebbe she heerd de mices runnin' 'round an want ole Tab for to ketch 'em."
"You go 'long and 'tend to yo' wuk. Bet, you lazy niggah," responded Agnes, pushing past her. "Miss Wilet an Miss Gracie dey'll min' dere own consarns widout none o' yo' help."
The child made no reply, but stole on tiptoe after Agnes.
Violet was coming up the front stairway, and reached the door of her dressing-room, just in advance of the girl. Opening it she exclaimed at the powerful perfume which greeted her nostrils, then catching sight of the bottle lying in fragments on the floor.
"Who can have done this?" she asked in a tone of surprise not wholly free from displeasure.
"De cat, mos' likely, Miss Wilet," said Agnes, setting down her basket and glancing at puss who was stretched comfortably on the rug before the fire. "I s'pect she's been running ober de bureau, like I see her do, mor'n once 'fo' dis."
"She looks very quiet now," remarked Violet, "and if she did the mischief it was certainly not intentional. But don't leave her shut up here again, Agnes."