“And will you tell him that it would be a good thing for me to go over and see her fitted up?”
“I will tell him. He will be glad to know that you have got something to do.”
It was half-past ten o’clock when they got home. The other Greek opened the door.
“Is the master in bed yet, Zaimes?”
“He went upstairs ten minutes ago. I think he had forgotten all about Horace not being at home. He did not mention his name to me.”
“What a nuisance!” Horace said. “Now I shall have to wait till morning before I know about it, and I am so anxious to hear what he says.”
“It will be all the pleasanter when you hear,” Zaimes said quietly.
The two men were brothers, Zaimes being ten years senior. He was Mr. Beveridge’s valet, his brother being a sort of general assistant, waiting at meals except when Horace was at home, when he was considered specially told off to him. They lived apart from the other servants, having a room of their own where they cooked their meals in their own fashion. Both were extremely attached to their master, and would have given their lives for him.
“Marco will tell me all about it, and I will talk to the master while I am dressing him. You are making Marco again a boy like yourself, Horace. He is as eager about this boat as you are”; and he smiled indulgently at his brother, whom he still regarded as a boy, although he was now nearly forty.
“That will be the best plan, Zaimes. I shall be glad for him to know all about it before breakfast time, for I am sure I should not like to tell him that we had fixed on a boat like that.”