All restrictions were lifted from the South. Little by little, on one pretext or another, blacks and poor whites were disfranchised; and the North covered the ugliness with gossamer robes of nostalgic romance. The Black Codes were invoked; homeless men and women were picked up for vagrancy, chain gangs formed, and the long, long night set in. Not all at once, of course. And that afternoon as Douglass walked away through the White House grounds, he could not be sure. The air was clean and sweet after a cleansing shower, and he decided to walk. He swung along, hardly heeding his direction. Then he saw that he was on I Street, N.W., and, as he approached a certain building, his steps slowed. The Haitians had opened their Legation with such pomp and pride! At last the valiant little Republic had been recognized, and President Lincoln had invited them to send their ambassador. He had come, a quiet, cultured gentleman who spoke English and French with equal charm and grace. But almost immediately the Haitian Legation on I Street had closed, and Ernest Roumain moved to New York City. He had said very little, but everybody knew that Washington would not tolerate the Legation of Haiti. Douglass sighed. He hesitated a moment. Then his face brightened. He would go and see Miss Amelia. Yes, it would do him good to talk to Miss Amelia a little while. * * * * * Over on Pennsylvania Avenue at Fifteenth Street government clerks and secretaries were leaving the Treasury Building. They glanced up at the clearing skies and set off in their several directions. Helen Pitts paused a moment at the top of the steps. She and Elsie Baker usually walked home together; but Elsie did not come, so Helen started walking rather slowly down the street. It was nice to stroll along like this after the busy day. Her work had settled into a regular routine. Life in the civil service was by no means dull. There was always the possibility of being let in on some “important secret.” Anything could and often did happen in Washington. And now there was not even the slightest chance of her getting homesick. Her first lodging place had been respectable enough, but she used to look forward to times when she could go home. Now she was thinking about having her mother come down and spend a week with her. She’d love it. Her good luck had come on a particularly cold night when Elsie, whom she knew then only as the Senior Clerk, had spoken to her. “You have an awfully long ways to go, don’t you, Miss Pitts?” “Yes, it is far. But it’s only in weather like this that I really mind it.” Mrs. Baker--she was a war widow--regarded her for a few minutes and then murmured, “I wonder!” “You wonder what?” asked Helen pleasantly. “I was just wondering if _maybe_ Miss Amelia wouldn’t let you have Jessie Payne’s room.” “And why should I have Jessie Payne’s room? I don’t know the lady.” The Senior Clerk laughed.