_Lincoln_: No, sir, it is not all, sir. I don't like this coat. I
am going to change it. I shall be back in a minute or two, and if a
gentleman named Mr. William Custis calls, ask him to wait in here.

_He goes out_. SUSAN _collects the teacups. As she is going to the
door a quiet, grave white-haired negro appears facing her_. SUSAN
_starts violently_.

_The Negro (he talks slowly and very quietly)_: It is all right.

_Susan_: And who in the name of night might you be?

_The Negro_: Mista William Custis. Mista Lincoln tell me to come here.
Nobody stop me, so I come to look for him.

_Susan_: Are you Mr. William Custis?

_Custis_: Yes.

_Susan_: Mr. Lincoln will be here directly. He's gone to change his
coat. You'd better sit down.

_Custis_: Yes.

_He does so, looking about him with a certain pathetic
inquisitiveness_. Mista Lincoln live here. You his servant? A very
fine thing for young girl to be servant to Mista Lincoln.

_Susan_: Well, we get on very well together.