She went to the door of the cloak-room opposite, where a coloured
man stood watchfully in the doorway. "I wonder if you know which
of the gentlemen is my brother, Mr. Walter Adams," she said.

"Yes'm; I know him."

"Could you tell me where he is?"

"No'm; I couldn't say."

"Well, if you see him, would you please tell him that his sister,
Miss Adams, is looking for him and very anxious to speak to him?"

"Yes'm. Sho'ly, sho'ly!"

As she went away he stared after her and seemed to swell with
some bursting emotion. In fact, it was too much for him, and he
suddenly retired within the room, releasing strangulated
laughter.

Walter remonstrated. Behind an excellent screen of coats and
hats, in a remote part of the room, he was kneeling on the floor,
engaged in a game of chance with a second coloured attendant; and
the laughter became so vehement that it not only interfered with
the pastime in hand, but threatened to attract frozen-face
attention.

"I cain' he'p it, man," the laughter explained. "I cain' he'p
it! You sut'n'y the beatin'es' white boy 'n 'is city!"