“Well,” said Mrs. Ferguson, “I never knew before that the lad had nerves; but nerves he has and no mistake. The men called him to help them move the plate into the safe. It was evidently a surprise to him to see such a heap of splendid plate, and he came to me afterwards all white and trembling.
“‘I had no idea there was so much plate in the house,’ he said. ‘It quite frightens me, and I won’t take the responsibility of living in the same place with it. I have heard of a place in London that I think will suit me, and I’d like to go.’”
“Well, let him go,” said Nance.
“To be sure, ma’am. Foolish lad, to leave a first-class place of this sort because he has got a bit of a scare. What has the plate to do with him?”
Nance was silent.
“The inconvenience, too,” continued Mrs. Ferguson, knitting her brows, and speaking with a touch of annoyance; “and just when Vickers had taken the trouble to train him in. This will put too much work on Hamley, the under-footman, and he don’t know his work as well as George. If my master should come back unexpectedly, as he always does, we’ll not have the place in the apple-pie order that I should like it to be in. I shall, of course, look out for another servant immediately.”
“George must go,” said Nance. “There is no use in keeping an unwilling or frightened servant in the place.”
“Very well, ma’am, of course you are right. I’ll send off a note by the next post to the registry office in London, where I generally apply for servants.”
“No, don’t do that,” answered Nance. “It is strange that you should have spoken to me about George now, for it so happens that I heard only a few moments ago of an excellent footman. I will write about him myself at once. When does George want to leave?”