“You’ve been seeing to me for a week now and you know the worst about me. Now the question is, whether you are going to take the job for the summer.”
The dark blue Irish eyes under Peg’s black lashes flooded with anxiety.
“Don’t I suit, sir?” she asked.
“You suit like an easy shoe, Peggy; but do I?”
The thin, freckled, little face blazed into enthusiasm.
“Why, I think you’re splendid, sir—just splendid. Funny, you know, and messy, but I don’t mind that. I love cleaning up after folks if they’re nice, and you’re as nice as can be.”
“Thank you,” said Archibald, gratefully. “Then you think you can keep on seeing to me?”
“Yessir. I’d love it.”
“And the work isn’t too hard?”
“Hard? Why, it isn’t a bit hard. If anybody isn’t sick or drunk or anything like that, seeing to him is as easy as anything.”