A small, quaint-looking old coloured man peeped out.
"Go 'way," he said, "go 'way at once! We don't want no tickets." "I'm not selling tickets," said Patty, half angry and half amused.
"Well, we don't want no shoelacers, nor lead pencils, nor nuffin! You _must_ be selling something." "I am not selling anything," said Patty.

"I came over because Miss Daggett sent for me." "Laws 'a' massy, child, why didn't you say so before you spoke?
Be you Miss Fairfield ?" "Yes," said Patty; "here's my card." "Oh, never mind the ticket; if so be you's Miss Fairfield, jes' come right in, come right in." The door was flung open wide and Patty entered a dark, old-fashioned hall.

From that she was led into a parlour, so dark that she could scarcely see the outline of a lady on the sofa.
"How do you do, Miss Daggett ?" she said, guessing that it was probably her hostess who seemed to be sitting there.
"How do you do ?" said Miss Daggett, putting out her hand, without rising.
"I'm quite well, thank you," said Patty, and her eyes having grown a little accustomed to the dark, she grasped the old lady's hand, although, as she told her father afterwards, she was awfully afraid she would tweak her nose by mistake.
"And how are you, Miss Daggett ?" "Not very well, child, not very well, but you won't stay long, will you?
I sent for you, yes, I sent for you on an impulse.

I thought I'd like to see you, but I'd no sooner sent than I wished I hadn't.

But you won't stay long, will you, dearie ?" "No," said Patty, feeling really sorry for the queer old lady.