Madam saw, but not exactly.
“Now if she’ll just move ’er chair––”
The chair was moved in such a way as to make it seem that the occupant, having finished her breakfast, was giving herself a little more space.
“And if madam would remove ’er ’at and jacket, she’d—she’d seem more like the lydy of the ’ouse at ’ome.”
Letty took off these articles of apparel, which Steptoe whisked out of sight.
“Now I’ll be Mrs. Courage comin’ to sye, ‘Madam, I wish to give notice.’ Madam’ll lower the pyper just enough to show ’er inclinin’ of ’er ’ead, assentin’ to Mrs. Courage leavin’ ’er. Mrs. Courage will be all for ’avin’ words—she’s a great ’and for words, Mrs. Courage is—but if madam won’t sye nothin’ at all, the wind’ll be out o’ Mrs. Courage’s syles like. Now, will madam be so good––?”
Having passed out into the hall, he entered with Mrs. Courage’s majestic gait, pausing some three feet from the table to say:
“Madam, things bein’ as they are, and me not wishin’ to stye no longer in the ’ouse where I’ve served so many years, I beg to give notice that I’m a givin’ of notice and mean to quit right off.”
Letty lowered the paper from before her eyes, jerking her head briskly.