'Ignored!' she said, opening her eyes at him.
'Will you substitute another word?' said he, looking for it in the orbs so revealed. Wych Hazel turned off.
'Will you come to luncheon, sir?' she said; so exactly as if she were speaking to Mr. Falkirk, that Mrs. Bywank looked up in mute amazement.
But lunch was not to have much attention, nevertheless. Dingee began a raid on the housekeeper's room. It was:
'Mas' Nightingale, Missee Hazel.'
'Mas' May and—Miss May, ma'am.—'
'Mrs. Powder, Missee Hazel—and all de rest!' added Dingee. ' 'Spect dere ain't a livin' soul won't be there, time I get back. Miss Fisher, she done ask for Mas' Rollo. But I'se learnin' to tell the truf fustrate.'
'What is the truth about me, Dingee?' asked that gentleman. 'I should be glad to hear it.'
'Well, sir,' said Dingee, standing attention, 'she 'quire 'bout you. So I say, "Mas' Rollo, he done come dis mornin', sure,—but my young mistiss she out. So he done gone straight away from de door, ma'am." Mighty glad she never ask which way!' added Dingee with a chuckle. Wych Hazel held down her head, laughing the sweet laugh which would come now and then, in the worst of times.
'Run away,' she said, 'and say I am coming. I must go, Byo—if Mr. Rollo will excuse me. And as he came to see you, I suppose he will!'