“There you are,” he replied. “That's all and more than I can spare, just now. Good by.”
“Good by, sir—for now. And thank you kindly.”
Captain Dan, for all his prompt handling of the thieving butler and his professed ability to deal with men—Mr. Hapgood's kind of man—awaited the return of his wife and daughter with considerable uneasiness. Hapgood, in his capacity as trained, capable, aristocratic servant, had been a favorite of Serena's. The captain dreaded telling his wife what, in the heat of his anger, he had done. But his dread was needless. Serena's mind was too much occupied with politics and political ambition to dwell upon less important matters.
“I suppose it is all right,” she said. “If he was a thief he should be discharged, of course. No doubt you did right, Daniel, but we shall miss him dreadfully. I don't know where we can get another butler like him.”
Daniel gasped. “Good land of love!” he cried; “we don't WANT another like him, do we! I should hope we didn't.”
“I don't mean another thief. Oh, dear me! Why do you pick me up in that way? One would think you took a delight in worrying me all you could. Get me a cup of tea. I want it right away. My nerves are all unstrung. Gertie—”
But Gertie had gone to her room; she spent the greater part of her time there now. Her mother sighed.
“She's gone,” she declared. “Just when I need her most, of course. I can't see what has got into her for the last few days. She was so interested in the Chapter. Even more than I, I began to think. And yet, at the committee meeting this afternoon—the most important meeting we've had; when we were counting the votes which we can be sure of and those that are doubtful, she scarcely said a word. Just sat there and moped. I don't know what is the matter with her.”
Daniel nodded. “I think I do,” he said. “It's John. Somethin's the matter between her and John. If he had only stayed here! If he would only come back!”
“Then for mercy sakes get him back! Telegraph him. You said you were going to.”