Alfred put down the inkstand and approached the maid, smiling at her. He wagged his head knowingly.
“They got on to it at dinner las’ night. Yas, they did.”
He chuckled and took her hand in his.
“Got on to—what?”
“Eugannicks.”
He spoke so solemnly that Prudence was vastly impressed.
“Eugannicks,” she repeated, “what’s that?”
Alfred hesitated.
“Eugannicks be—eugannicks.”
“You’re a oner at explainin’ things to a pore young maid, you be.”