“No, indeed!” she said warmly. “I have been so anxious to know how he goes on!” She seated herself, holding her fan in her clasped hands, and raised her eyes to his face in an enquiring look. “Is he well? Is he happy?”
“As far as I have been able to ascertain,” replied Mr. Beaumaris carefully, “he is not only fast recovering the enjoyment of excellent health, but is achieving no common degree of felicity by conduct likely to deprive me of the services of most of my existent staff.”
Arabella considered this. Mr. Beaumaris watched appreciatively the wrinkling of her thoughtful brow. “Is he very naughty?” she asked presently.
“According to thereport of my housekeeper, Miss Tallant—but I daresay she is not to be at all believed!—he is the embodiment of too many vices for me to enumerate.”
She seemed to accept this with unimpaired calm, for she nodded understandingly.
“Pray do not think that I should dream of burdening you with anything so unimportant as the complaints of a mere housekeeper!” begged Mr. Beaumaris. “Nothing but the most urgent of exigencies could have prevailed upon me to open my lips to you upon this subject!” She looked startled, and enquiring: “You see,” he said apologetically, “it is Alphonse!”
“Alphonse?”
“My chef,” explained Mr. Beaumaris. “Of course, if you say so, ma’am, he shall go! But I must own that his departure would cause me grave concern. I do not mean to say that my Me would be shattered, precisely, for no doubt there are other chefs who have his way with a soufflé, and who do not take such violent exception to the raids of small boys upon the larder!”
“But this is quite absurd, Mr. Beaumaris!” said Arabella severely. “You must have been indulging Jemmy beyond what is right! I daresay he is excessively ill-behaved: it is always so, unless their spirits are utterly broken, and we must be thankful that his are not!”
“Very true!” agreed Mr. Beaumaris, entranced by this wisdom. “I will at once present this view of the matter to Alphonse.”