“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.
“I’m very sorry, my lord—” I began.
“What, have you got another place?”
“No, my lord; not exactly.”