"Oh, yes, I know everybody—that is, almost everybody. The last time I was over there, I observed that an office had been taken by one who is a stranger to me; and I observed, also, that he appeared to be studious, so it might be worth while to see him too."
She thanked him, kissed his wife, and a few minutes later, her steps died away in the distance.
"Dear," said Mrs. Jacques, "don't you know that she reminds me of someone I knew a long time ago. But who it was, where it was, I do not know; but I always feel queer when she kisses me."
"You're becoming fanciful," he smiled, lighting a cigar.
They talked about other subjects, and Mildred was, for the time, forgotten.
"A story of the northwest, by a Negro pioneer, eh?" said a man, upon whose office door was written: Real Estate, Loans and Renting. "M-m. Looks like a good book. Negroes don't write many books, although there are a great many that come the rounds about Negroes, but gotten up by whites with a sketch about Tom, Dick and Harry, and exaggerated estimates of the Negro. So, in view of the fact, I guess you may put me down for a copy, and deliver it next week."
"Thank you, sir," she said, as she wrote his name, and the date of delivery.
"Having much success?" he inquired.
"A great deal, I am glad to say," she replied pleasantly.