There were enough troubles to rack even a healthy set of nerves. The domestic situation was decidedly complicated. No successor to the departed Hapgood had, as yet, been selected. Mr. Hungerford was partially responsible for this. At first, when told of the butler's misbehavior and its consequences, he had expressed sorrow, but had advised forgiveness and the reinstallation of the discharged one. The crime was, after all, not so very serious. Most butlers exacted commissions from tradespeople, so he had been told. Of course it was all wrong, a pernicious system and all that, but they did do it. And many employers winked at the system. Hapgood was an exceptional fellow, really quite exceptional. Aunt Lavinia had treated him as one of the family, almost. Captain Dan, to whom these statements were made, was stubbornly indignant. He wouldn't wink at a thief, and he wouldn't fire him and then hire him over again, either. If “that everlastin' sneak showed his white-washed face on the premises again, he'd have that face damaged.” All the captain hoped for was a chance to inflict the damage.
So Cousin Percy, finding Daniel obdurate, tried his influence upon Serena, whom he regarded, and justly, as the real head of the house. But Serena, too, refused to consider Mr. Hapgood's re-employment. She had talked with Azuba, and Azuba had declared that she should leave in “just about two-thirds of a jiffy” if the butler came back. “When he comes into my kitchen,” she said, “I get out. I should hate to quit the folks I'd worked for the biggest part of my life, but there's some things I won't stand. He's one of 'em. Don't talk to me about HIM!”
Mr. Hapgood was not re-engaged nor forgiven, and Hungerford kindly volunteered to find a competent successor. He would make some inquiries among his friends, the right sort of people, he said, and his manner indicated that the said people were accustomed to employing butlers in droves.
Azuba, therefore, was left with all the domestic cares upon her hands. These hands were quite competent, had they been disengaged, but just now they were full. Azuba was “advancing,” just as she had proclaimed to Captain Dan that she intended to do. She read “The Voice” and kindred literature a great deal, and quoted from her readings at every opportunity. Denied admittance to the Chapter, in spite of Gertrude's efforts in her behalf—Gertrude had warmly advocated the formation of a Servants' Branch—she had made search on her own hook and suddenly announced that she had found what she was looking for. This, so she affirmed, was an organization called “The Free Laborers' Band,” and it met in a hall somewhere or other, though no one but its members seemed to know just where that hall was. Serena made inquiries, but neither servants nor mistresses had ever heard of the “Band.” Gertrude, when she heard of it, at first seemed to be much amused, and laughed heartily. Then she became very grave and declared it a splendid thing and that she was delighted because Azuba had found her opportunity. She was entitled to that opportunity, as was every free woman, and certainly neither Gertrude or her mother, being “free women” themselves, must offer objection or permit mere household drudgery to interfere.
So Azuba “advanced” and preached and went out at night and occasionally during the day. Gertrude and Serena went out all the time, when they were not entertaining themselves. Life became a never-ending round of politics and society functions, followed by, on Mrs. Dott's part, sleepless nights and “nerves” and fretful worriment concerning Gertrude. Gertrude did not appear to worry. She grew gayer and more gay, more careless in her manner and more slangy in her speech. Mr. Holway continued to call and Cousin Percy to dance solicitous attendance. John Doane's name was never mentioned in his fiancee's presence. She would not speak, or permit others to speak, of him.
And then Mr. Holway ceased to call. His final call was a lengthy one, and he and Gertrude were alone during the latter part of it. The following day Daniel met him on the street and was barely recognized. The captain was not greatly troubled at the slight—he did not care greatly for the lively Monty—but he was surprised. When he mentioned the meeting to his daughter the young lady smiled, but offered no explanation. Her father did not press the point. As Holway came no more and it became apparent that he was not coming, the captain was satisfied.
Gertrude's strange behavior alarmed and troubled him, but his wife's ill health and her worn, weary expression alarmed him more. He was actually frightened concerning her.
“Oh, Serena,” he begged, “what makes you do it? It isn't worth it. You're killin' yourself. Let's give it up and go somewhere and rest. The Queen of Sheba's job ain't worth it, let alone just bein' vice-president of Scarford Chapter.”
But Serena shook her head. “I can't give it up, Daniel,” she declared hysterically. “I—I think I would if I could. I really do. Sometimes I feel as if I would give up everything just to be at peace and happy and contented again.”
“You bet!” with enthusiasm. “So would I. And we were contented at Trumet, wasn't we? That is, I was; and you was enough sight better contented than you are now.”