Miss Berengaria's servants had been with her for a long time and were all eminently respectable. She was—needless to say—very good to them, and they adored and obeyed her in quite a feudal manner. When at supper in the servants' hall—all old and all sedate—they might have been a company of Quakers from the sobriety of their demeanor. The head of the table was taken by the cook, and the foot by James the coachman. Those two were married and were both fat, both devoted to Miss Berengaria, and both rulers of the other servants. The coachman swayed the little kingdom of domestics with his stout wife as queen.
On the very evening Miss Plantagenet came back from Cove Castle, the servants were enjoying a good supper, and James was detailing the events of the day. After this his wife narrated what had taken place during his absence. And at the side of the table sat Jerry, looking the picture of innocence, occupied with his bread and cheese, but taking everything in. The information conveyed to James by the cook related to several tramps that had called, and to the killing of two fowls by a fox terrier that belonged to a neighbor.
"And a nice rage the missus will be in over them," said cook.
"You should have set Sloppy Jane on the terrier," said James. "Our poultry is prize birds and worth a dozen of them snappy dogs as bite the heels of respectable folk."
"Sloppy Jane was with me," said a sedate housemaid. "A tramp came to the gate asking for Miss Alice, and I couldn't get him away."
"What did he want with Miss Alice?" demanded James, aggressively.
"Ah, what indeed!" said the housemaid. "I told him Miss Alice wouldn't speak to the like of him. But he looked a gentleman, though he had a two days' beard and was dressed in such rags as you never saw."
"Did he go, Sarah?"
"Oh, yes, he went in a lingering sort of way, and I had to tie Jane up in case she'd fly on him. I didn't want that."
"Why not?" said the coachman, dictatorially. "Tramps is tramps."