climbing in
and out of a high car door; it was swifter and safer than a carriage;
therefore, he was ready to purchase its speed and convenience. He cared
little for the sensation he would create in riding up to his sister's
door in Brooklyn, though he chuckled mightily at the thought of what his
old dad would say; and as they claimed a place among the millionaires he
broke into a sly smile. "If ever a bog-trotter landed at Castle Garden,
me father was wan o' them. I can remember the hat he wore. 'Twas a
'stovepipe,' sure enough. It had no rim at all at all! It was fuzzy as a
cat. If he didn't have a green vest it was a wonder. He took me to see a
play once just to show me how he did look. He was onto his own curves,
was old dad. I hope he's livin' yet. I'd like to take him up the Avenue
in this car and hear the speel he'd put up."

Bertha was in growing uneasiness, and when alone at the close of her
wonderful ride through this marvellous city, so clean, so vast, so
packed with stores of all things rich and beautiful, she went to her
room in a blur of doubt. Now that an unspoken, half-formed resolution to
free herself was in her mind, she realized that every extravagance like
this ride, these gorgeous rooms, sank her deeper into helpless
indebtedness to Marshall Haney. And this knowledge now took away the
keen edge of her delight, making her food bitter and her pillow hot.

In the midst of her troubled thinking, Lucius knocked at the door to
ask: "Will you go down to dinner or shall I have it sent up?"

"Oh no, I'll go down."

"They dress for dinner, ma'am."

"Do they? What'll I wear?"

He considered a moment. "Any light silk--semi-dress will do. I'll send a
maid in to help you."

"No, I don't need a maid. They're a nuisance," she quickly answered.

Lucius' attitude towards her was more than respectful--it was paternal;
for she made no more secret of her early condition than Haney, and the
colored man enjoyed serving them. He seemed perfectly happy in advising,
cautioning, directing them, and was deeply impressed with their powers
of adaptability--was, in truth, developing a genuine affection for them
both. He was a lonely little man, Bertha had learned, with no near kin
in the States, and the fact that he came from an Island in the sea made
him less of a "nigger" to the Captain, who had the usual amount of
prejudice against both black and red men.

The high-keyed, sumptuous dining-hall was filled with small ta