black clothes, and held a waiter in one hand, stood before her.

"I wish to see Mr. Darrington."

"I reckon you mean Gin'l Darrington, don't you? Mr. Darrington,
Marse Prince Darrington, is in Yurope."

"I mean Mr. Luke Darrington, the owner of this place."

"Jess so; Gin'l Luke Darrington. Well, you can't see him."

"Why not? I must see him, and I shall stay here until I do."

"'Cause he is busy with his lie-yer, fixin' of some papers; and when
he tells me not to let nobody else in I'de ruther set down in a
yaller jacket's nest than to turn the door knob, after he done shut
it. Better leave your name and call ag'in."

"No, I will wait until he is at leisure. I presume my sitting on the
steps here will not be a violation of your orders."

"To be shore not. But them steps are harder than the stool of
repentance, and you had better walk in the drawing-room, and rest
yourself. There's pictures, and lots and piles of things there, you
can pass away the time looking at."

He waved his waiter toward a long, dim apartment, on the left side
of the hall.

"Thank you, I prefer to sit here."