“Basset, madam, and been in the family all my life, as mother and father were before me. Your old butler, sir, is my son, getting older every day, but not yet past service, either of us, I thank Heaven. Will you go to your room now, madam?”
“Yes, if you please,” said Judy. “I would like to take off my bonnet and cloak.”
Mrs. Basset looked all around, and then said:
“I do not think that your maid has come in yet. Shall I send one of the men out to hurry her? I suppose she is busy with the parcels in the carriage.”
“I—I—I—have no maid—yet,” replied Judy, blushing deeply, for she was rather afraid of this fine ruin of an old-time housekeeper, even though the aged woman was evidently falling a little into her second childhood.
“Oh, I see! I beg your pardon, ma’am. You will be waiting to take some good girl from the estate. That has been the way with the ladies of Hay from time immemorial.” She paused suddenly in her babble and looked fixedly, though still very respectfully, at Mr. Hay.
Now Ran was just a little sensitive about his personal appearance. He was not a handsome, soldierly blond, but a beautiful, dark brunette; graceful as a leopard, sinuous as a serpent. He was in the habit of humorously stigmatizing himself as “a little nigger.” So when the aged housekeeper regarded him with her wistful gaze, he thought she was saying to herself, how little like he was to any of the Hays. He laughed a little and said:
“You do not find much resemblance in me to my tall and fair forefathers, Mrs. Basset.”
“Sir,” she replied solemnly, “you are the living image of your honored grandmother.
The young man burst out laughing, and was joined by Mike and Judy.