III
THE KINGSMERE HOSPITAL FOR CONSUMPTIVES
I prepared a particularly tasty breakfast that morning for my master, and I took special pains to please him as I assisted him to dress. He was not a man given to paying compliments, but when he entered the dining-room, and was unable to discover a single trace of last night's feast, he did not dissemble his surprise.
"You have re-established order very quickly—here at all events," he remarked, "Butts always took a day or two to clear up."
"That is not my way," I softly replied. "I could not sleep until I had cleared up everything. If you take the trouble to visit my pantry, sir, I will challenge you to find a stain on floor or wall, or a single speck on plate or cutlery."
"You appear to know your business," he conceded.
"From A to Z, sir," I answered. "Let me persuade you to try this omelette, Sir William. I cooked it myself."
A talent for making omelettes is one of the few accomplishments I had acquired from my father.
My master nodded, and helped himself to a dainty little roll. He tasted it, and actually smacked his lips.
"Excellent!" he observed. "Brown, I hope that Butts will not return, for his own sake. I wish you to take charge of my household henceforth from to-day. Your salary will be eight pounds a month."