“That’s a little curious, isn’t it? You become intoxicated everywhere, perhaps?”
“I’ve never been intoxicated in my life, my lord,” said I, humbly but firmly.
“Then you dispute the justice of your dismissal?”
“Yes, my lord.” I thought such protest due to my original.
He looked at me closely, smoking his cigar the while.
“You made love to the chambermaids?” he asked suddenly.
“No, my lord. One evening, my lord, it was very hot, and—and the wine, my lord——”
“Then you were intoxicated?”
I fumbled with my hat, praying that the fellow would move on.
“What servants are there?” he asked, pointing to the house.
“Four maids, my lord, and old Jean.”
Again he meditated; then he said sharply:
“Have you ever waited at table?”
We have all, I suppose, waited at table—in one sense. Perhaps that may save my remark from untruth.
“Now and then, my lord,” I answered, wondering what he would be at.
“I have guests arriving to-morrow,” he said. “My man comes with them, but the work will perhaps be too much for him. Are you willing to stay and help? I will pay you the same wages.”
I could have laughed in his face; but duty seemed to point to seriousness.
