"It can't be as bad as all that, Laura. Look—I'll give you the fan in the kitchen."
Carmelita bent to unscrew the connection.
"Won't make no difference, Mis' Drake. I made up my mind to quit anyhow. My bedroom's too small for a big lady like me and it's like an oven. My sister's gettin' me a job in a hotel down to Atlantic City. She wrote me to-day to come down right away if I wanted it."
Carmelita was angry. Laura had been negotiating for other employment behind her back. More than once Dudley in the rôle of peacemaker had settled tifts between Laura and her. Had he been there then he might yet have saved the day.
"I really think, Laura, that you might have said something ta me about your sister's offer, so that I could have been looking around for another servant." This was largely bluff on Carmelita's part. She had been at Dudley for a long time to permit her to discard the slovenly Laura for more attractive, expensive help and his reply had been that they couldn't afford it—yet.
Laura resented her mistress' icy tones. "Well, I only been stayin' here 'cause I thought you needed me, and Mr. Drake's so nice."
Carmelita, heat-tormented, was reckless.
