“Nonsense! The laws of nature are never reversed!” exclaimed Steve. “It’s nothing but our infernal stupidity or weakness. Have you ever said anything to her since?”
“No, I am done. She’s an iceberg.”
“Iceberg? When I saw her she was a volcano. Besides, ice melts,” said Steve, sententiously. “I’m engaged in the process myself.”
Jacquelin could not talk lightly of Blair, and he rose and quietly walked out of the office. As his footsteps died away, Steve sat back in his chair and fell into a reverie, induced by Jacquelin’s words and his reply.
Jacquelin had just left the office when there was a step outside, and a knock so timid that Steve felt sure that it must be a woman. He called to the person to come in; the knock, however, was repeated; so Steve called out more loudly. The door opened slowly, and a young colored woman put her head in and surveyed the office carefully. “Is dat you, Marse Steve?” she asked, and inserted her whole body. Then turning her back on Steve, she shut the door.
Steve waited with interest, for his visitor was Martha, Jerry’s wife, who was a maid at Major Welch’s. It was not the first time Martha had consulted him. Now, however, Steve was puzzled, for on former occasions when she came to see him, Jerry had been on a spree; but Steve had seen Jerry only the evening before, and he was sober. Steve motioned the girl to a seat and waited.
She was so embarrassed, however, that all she could do was to tug at something which she held securely tied up in her apron. Steve tried to help her out.
“Jerry drunk again? I thought I had given him a lesson last time that would last him longer.”
“Nor, suh, he ain’ drunk—yit. But I thought I’d come to ’sult you.” Again she paused, and looked timidly around the room.
“Well, what is it? Has he threatened to beat you?” he asked, a shade gathering on his brow. “He knows what he’ll get if he tries that again.”