Courtland waited silently in the hall. In a few moments he heard a heavy
footstep outside the rear window. This was his opportunity. Re-entering
the parlor somewhat ostentatiously, he confronted a tall negro girl
who was passing through the room carrying a tiny slipper in her hand.
"Excuse me," he said politely, "but I could not find any one to announce
me. Is Miss Dows at home?"

The girl instantly whipped the slipper behind her. "Is yo' wanting Miss
Mirandy Dows," she asked with great dignity, "oah Miss Sally Dows--her
niece? Miss Mirandy's bin gone to Atlanta for a week."

"I have a letter for Miss Miranda, but I shall be very glad if Miss
Sally Dows will receive me," returned Courtland, handing the letter and
his card to the girl.

She received it with a still greater access of dignity and marked
deliberation. "It's clean gone outer my mind, sah, ef Miss Sally is in
de resumption of visitahs at dis houah. In fac', sah," she continued,
with intensified gravity and an exaggeration of thoughtfulness as the
sounds of Miss Sally's hammering came shamelessly from the wall, "I
doahn know exac'ly ef she's engaged playin' de harp, practicin' de
languages, or paintin' in oil and watah colors, o' givin' audiences to
offishals from de Court House. It might be de houah for de one or de
odder. But I'll communicate wid her, sah, in de budwoh on de uppah
flo'." She backed dexterously, so as to keep the slipper behind her, but
with no diminution of dignity, out of a side door. In another moment the
hammering ceased, followed by the sound of rapid whispering without; a
few tiny twigs and leaves slowly rustled to the ground, and then there
was complete silence. He ventured to walk to the fateful window again.