Dawn Eleanor Porter (free novels to read txt) 📖

"Daniel, either Susan or I leave this house tomorrow morning. You canchoose between us."

"Nonsense, Nettie, don't be a fool," frowned the man. "You know verywell that we need both you and Susan. Susan's a trial, I'll admit, ina good many ways; but I'll wager you'd find it more of a trial to getalong without her, and try to do her work and yours, too."

"Nobody thought of getting along without SOMEBODY," returned Mrs.

Colebrook, with some dignity. "I merely am asking you to dismiss Susan

and hire somebody else—that is, of course, if you wish me to stay.

Change maids, that's all."

The man made an impatient gesture.

"All, indeed! Very simple, the way you put it. But—see here, Nettie,this thing you ask is utterly out of the question. You don'tunderstand matters at all."

"You mean that you don't intend to dismiss Susan?"

"Yes, if you will have it put that way—just that."

"Very well. Since that is your decision I shall have to govern myselfaccordingly, of course. I will see you in the morning to say good-bye." And she turned coldly away.

"What do you mean by that?"

"Why, that I am going home, of course—since you think more of havingthat impossible, outrageously impertinent servant girl here than youdo me." Mrs. Colebrook was nearing the door how.

"Shucks! You know better than that! Come, come, if you're having anytrouble with Susan, settle it with the girl herself, won't you? Don'tcome to me with it. You KNOW how I dislike anything like this."

At the door Mrs. Colebrook turned back suddenly with aggressivedetermination.

"Yes, I do know. You dislike anything that's disagreeable. You alwayshave, from the time when you used to run upstairs to the attic and letus make all the explanations to pa and ma when something got lost orbroken. But, see here, Daniel Burton, you've GOT to pay attention tothis. It's your son, and your house, and your maid. And you shalllisten to me."

"Well, well, all right, go ahead," sighed the man despairingly,throwing himself back in his chair. "What is the trouble? What is itthat Susan does that annoys you so?"

"What does she do? What doesn't she do?" retorted Mrs. Colebrook,dropping herself wearily into a chair facing her brother. "In thefirst place, she's the most wretchedly impertinent creature I everdreamed of. It's always 'Keith' instead of 'Master Keith,' and Iexpect every day it'll be 'Daniel' and 'Nettie' for you and me. Sheshows no sort of respect or deference in her manner or language, and—well, what are you looking like that for?" she interrupted herselfaggrievedly.

"I was only thinking—or rather I was TRYING to think of Susan—anddeference," murmured the man dryly.

"Yes, that's exactly it," Mrs. Colebrook reproved him severely."You're laughing. You've always laughed, I suspect, at her outrageousbehavior, and that's why she's so impossible in every way. Why, DanielBurton, I've actually heard her refuse—REFUSE to serve you withsomething to eat that you'd ordered."

"Oh, well, well, what if she has? Very likely there was something wehad to eat up instead, to keep it from spoiling. Susan is veryeconomical, Nettie."

"I dare say—at times, when it suits her to be so, especially if shecan assert her authority over you. Why, Daniel, she's a perfect tyrantto you, and you know it. She not only tells you what to eat, but whatto wear, and when to wear it—your socks, your underclothes. Why,Daniel, she actually bosses you!"

"Yes, yes; well, never mind," shrugged the man, a bit irritably.

"We're talking about how she annoys YOU, not me, remember."

"Well, don't you suppose it annoys me to see my own brother socompletely under the sway of this serving-maid? And such a maid!Daniel, will you tell me where she gets those long words of hers thatshe mixes up so absurdly?"

Daniel Burton laughed.

"Susan lived with Professor Hinkley for ten years before she came tome. The Hinkleys never used words of one or two syllables when theycould find one of five or six that would do just as well. Susan loveslong words."

"So I should judge. And those ridiculous rhymes of hers—did she learnthose, also, from Professor Hinkley?" queried Mrs. Colebrook. "And asfor that atrocious dinner-call of hers, it's a disgrace to any family—a positive disgrace!"

"Well, well, why don't you stop her doing it, then?" demanded Daniel

Burton, still more irritably. "Go to HER, not me. Tell her not to."

"I have."

The tone of her voice was so fraught with meaning that the man lookedup sharply.

"Well?"

"She said she wouldn't do it—when she worked for me."

Daniel Burton gave a sudden chuckle.

"I can imagine just how she'd say that," he murmured appreciatively.

"Daniel Burton, are you actually going to abet that girl in herwretched impertinence?" demanded Mrs. Colebrook angrily. "I tell you Iwill not stand it! Something has got to be done. Why, she even triesto interfere with the way I take care of your son—presumes to give mecounsel and advice on the subject, if you please. Dares to criticizeme—ME! Daniel Burton, I tell you I will not stand it. You MUST givethat woman her walking papers. Why, Daniel, I shall begin to think shehas hypnotized you—that you're actually afraid of her!"

Was it the scorn in her voice? Or was it that Daniel Burton'sendurance had snapped at this last straw? Whatever it was, the manleaped to his feet, threw back his shoulders, and thrust his handsinto his pockets.

"Nettie, look here. Once for all let us settle this matter. I tell youI cannot dismiss Susan; and I mean what I say when I use the words'can not.' I literally CAN NOT. To begin with, she's the kindest-hearted creature in the world, and she's been devotion itself allthese years since—since Keith and I have been alone. But even if Icould set that aside, there's something else I can't overlook. I—Iowe Susan considerable money."

"You owe her—MONEY?"

"Yes, her wages. She has not had them for some time. I must owe hersomething like fifty or sixty dollars. You see, we—we have had somevery unusual and very heavy expenses, and I have overdrawn my annuity—borrowed on it. Susan knew this and insisted on my letting her wagesgo on, for the present.