"Could you—er—do you think you could call her? This is about her regular breakfast time, isn't it?"
Nellie bent lower over her work. "I couldn't call her," she said. "She gets up when she's ready unless the night before she's told me to call her. I wouldn't call her for nobody."
This was a distinct and offensive challenge to his importance. Hubert couldn't let it pass unnoticed.
"I suppose because my work keeps me away you've forgotten me. I'm your employer."
"No, sir, you ain't. My employer is asleep upstairs."
"You'll be out of a job this afternoon."
Nellie laughed with a loud, free recklessness. "You so big around here, you go wake Mrs. Scott up," she said.
Hubert walked out of the kitchen. Fresh, damn dinge. Many a time he'd handed her extra dollars. Well, anyhow he remembered one time distinctly. He hated to see the poor girl put out of a position she'd had over two years, but he didn't know how else to answer her impudence. She couldn't be permitted to talk to him like that. He'd have to tell Helen. He remembered Nellie's last words to him. Well, no, he'd better let Helen sleep.
It was an hour and a half later that she came downstairs. She was wearing a kimono of printed silk. Always something different. Gee, she probably spent a barrel of jack on clothes.
She looked at him and said, "Good morning. Did you want to speak to me?"
"Yes."
