Much elated Christie rushed home, selected a bag of necessary
articles, bundled the rest of her possessions into an empty closet
(lent her rent-free owing to a profusion of cockroaches), paid up
her board, and at two o'clock introduced herself to Hepsey Johnson,
her fellow servant.

Hepsey was a tall, gaunt woman, bearing the tragedy of her race
written in her face, with its melancholy eyes, subdued expression,
and the pathetic patience of a wronged dumb animal. She received
Christie with an air of resignation, and speedily bewildered her
with an account of the duties she would be expected to perform.

A long and careful drill enabled Christie to set the table with but
few mistakes, and to retain a tolerably clear recollection of the
order of performances. She had just assumed her badge of servitude,
as she called the white apron, when the bell rang violently and
Hepsey, who was hurrying away to "dish up," said:

"It's de marster. You has to answer de bell, honey, and he likes it
done bery spry."

Christie ran and admitted an impetuous, stout gentleman, who
appeared to be incensed against the elements, for he burst in as if
blown, shook himself like a Newfoundland dog, and said all in one
breath:

"You're the new girl, are you? Well, take my umbrella and pull off
my rubbers."