AS the door closed behind Graydon, Hattie appeared from the dining-room and sullenly confronted her mistress.
“I ain’t a-going to stay,” she said.
Eris looked up, blankly, still pale and confused by the gust of passion that had swept her.
“I don’t have to work in no such kinda place,” continued the coloured woman doggedly, “and I ain’t a-going to. Mah week’s up Friday, but you pay me up to las’ night an’ I’ll go now.”
The girl comprehended. A painful colour surged over her face to the roots of her hair.
“Very well,” she said in a low voice. She went to her desk, opened an account book, then drew a cheque for the balance of the woman’s wages.
Hattie took the cheque, hesitated: “Of co’se,” she ventured, “if yo’ wishes me to stay, Miss Eris, mah wages will be jess ten dollahs mo’ a week. Any real lady would be glad to gimme that foh all I does——”
“I don’t need you,” said the girl quietly. “Go as soon as you can get ready.”
“Suit yo’se’f, Mrs. Graydon,” retorted Hattie, with elaborate disrespect, “and if I may kindly persume to be excused, Mrs. Graydon, I will attend to the requiahments necessary fo’ my departure.”
Said Eris: “Pack your effects, Hattie, and call an expressman. I shall not expect to find you loitering here when I return.”