"Oh, I'm not bothered about that, for I've just put through some new efficiency systems which enable me to accomplish a tremendous amount of work in a very short time. What I can't stand is having that darky impose on us."
"But, dearest, maybe she's sick."
"Then she could have sent us word by telephone. No; she's taking advantage of the fact that you are young and inexperienced. But she'll be sorry for it. I'll discharge her myself."
"Now, please don't get excited, dear. If you discharged her, it might be days and days before we could get another."
"That wouldn't make any difference. We'd simply take our meals out. Except breakfast, of course. I'd get that."
"You?"
"Yes. We'll start this morning. If you'll attend to the dusting—later in the day, I mean—I'll bring you your coffee before you get up, just as you're used to having it."
"But, Henry—"
"It won't be any trouble at all. Nothing is, no matter how unfamiliar it may be to you, if you go at it intelligently, scientifically." When Mr. Brush was obsessed with an idea, it was useless to oppose him. The best policy was to let it take its course. "As I have often told you," he continued, "housekeeping could be greatly simplified if you women would only—"
Seeing that he was about to launch into a homily on efficiency, such as she had heard him deliver at least twenty times in the three months she had been married to him, she said: