your name, and don't leave there till I come, and I'll look after your
baggage."

"My name, sir, is Agnes Arnold. I have no baggage except this one
small trunk, and I would rather you let this young man bring it along
directly with me."

"Very well, take it, Ned, and follow Miss Arnold, and see you don't
ask anything for the job."

"Yes, sir," replied the negro porter, and shouldering the trunk he
strode on hastily after Agnes. He would not go further into the house,
however, than the little room immediately in the rear of the store.

"Surely you are not afraid, you who live here!" exclaimed Agnes.

"De Lor' bless your soul, missus. Youse couldn't haul dis yer niggah
furder inter dis yallah house with an army muel team. Don't yer smell
dat 'culiah scent. O, Lor', good-by missus. Dat's de rele Jack, suah!"

And without waiting for any further argument or remark upon the
subject, the terrified fellow clapped his hand over his mouth and
nose, and actually bounded out into the street to where some men were
burning tar and pitch as a disinfectant. Nor did he seem to consider
himself safe until he had nearly choked himself by thrusting his head
into the dense black Fumes.

Agnes would have laughed at the silly man, but at this moment such
violent and agonized groaning fell upon her ears, that she started and
trembled. But it was only for a moment.