"How do you do," said Forrester.
"Good afternoon," she returned, sullenly, her voice deep and harsh.
"Would you mind calling off that dog?" requested Forrester. "I want to have a chat with you."
"About what?" she asked.
"Oh, about yourself, and the oak tree, and what has been going on there lately."
"I don't know anything about it!" she snapped.
"I'm sorry," said Forrester. "I thought perhaps you would know something about it."
"What made you think that?" she demanded.
Forrester immediately fell into Humphrey's manner so far as he could recollect it. "I'm a reporter for the Times," he explained. "I have been assigned to write up a special feature article for next Sunday's edition about this tree that the 'Friends of the Poor' have been using, and the neighborhood. While scouting around I just now happened to discover your cottage. Naturally, it occurred to me that anyone living so near to the oak tree might know something about it."
There is a certain glamour and attraction connected with reporters, newspapers and special interviews which appears to appeal to persons in all stations of life. Forrester observed that his remarks had had a very softening effect upon the negress. She regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, then turned and administered a kick to the dog.