“Oh, I don't know,” said Serena impatiently. “She misses John, I suppose. She thought he was going to stay and he didn't, and she was disappointed. Don't bother me! Don't! I've checked this voting list over three times already and it has come out different each time. I'm so tired and headachy and nervous I think I shall die. Sometimes I don't care if I do. Go away.”
“But, Serena, there's—there's somethin' queer about Gertie and John. I don't believe she's heard from him since he left. I don't believe she has.”
“Then, why doesn't she write and find out what is the matter? Perhaps he's sick.”
“Maybe so, but perhaps she don't want to write. Perhaps she's waitin' for him to do it.”
“He can't write if he's sick, can he? Why don't she telegraph him?”
“That would be just the same, the way she may look at it.”
“Then wire him yourself, why don't you? Oh, please go away—PLEASE. I'll speak to her, Daniel, when I get time; I was going to. But just now I—oh, my POOR head!”
Daniel made up his mind to telegraph Doane that very afternoon, but he did not. A happening in the household prevented him. Mr. Hapgood was summarily discharged.
Azuba was responsible for the affair. Serena was out—“committeeing” as usual—Gertrude was with her. Mr. Hungerford, also, was absent. Captain Dan, in the library, dolefully musing in an arm chair, heard a violent altercation in the kitchen. As it did not cease, but became more violent, he hastened to the scene.
Azuba was standing in the middle of the kitchen, her back against the table, facing the butler. Mr. Hapgood's face was red, his fists were clenched, and he was shaking one of them under the housekeeper's nose.