"
"Miss Anita Adair? Oh, I should say we 'ave! And is she the young
lady?"
"Yes. They are coming to live with us for a time."
"Oh, that will be very pleasant! Quite an honor, you might say--That
will make two extra at dinner, then?"
"Yes. No--that is, we were expecting Mr. and Mrs. Schuyler, but
I wish you would telephone them that I am quite ill--not very, you
understand--a bad cold, I think, would be best. Something to keep
me to my room for the day."
"Very good, ma'am. Was there anything else?"
"No--oh yes--ask Mrs. Abby to have the Louis Seize room made ready,
will you?"
"Very good--and some flowers, per'aps, I suppose."
"Yes."
"Thank you."
He shuffled out, bowed under the weight of the calamity, as if
he had an invisible trunk on his back. He gathered the servants
in solemn conclave in their sitting-room and delivered a funeral
oration over young Mr. Jim. There were tears in the eyes of the
women-servants and curses in the throats of the men. They all adored
Mr. Jim, and their recent pride in his triumph over Peter Cheever
was turned to ashes. He had married into the movies! They supposed
that he must have been drinkin' very 'ard. Jim's valet said:
"This is as good as handin' me my notice."
But, then, Dallam was a ratty soul and was for deserting a sinking
ship. Wotton and the others felt that their loyalty was only now to
be put to the test. They must help the old folks through it. There
was one ray of hope: such marriages did not last long in America.
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