“I—I thought you were abroad,” said she.
“I have come back,” he answered, simply.
III.
THE POSTHUMOUS JEST.
An hour later Schmidt was sitting by the front door, smoking his long pipe, when he thought he saw his master crossing the lawn along the lily-pond. But he was walking hand in hand with a young lady. The long pipe dropped from Schmidt’s hand; and
“Potztausend!”
The imperturbable valet was moved to say as much as this, but of further speech remained incapable. May approached.
“Schmidt, you will go to town and get the rest of my luggage.”
The valet only stared.
“And after this I shall not need your services. I will find you a good place (with some of my bachelor friends,” thought May; “poor devils!”). Schmidt still stood there, his broken pipe upon the door-step.
“Do you hear what I say?”