"Yes, thank you."
Nell dared not meet his eye. She bit her lip in terror she would begin to laugh.
"Is it the custom in Ireland to use one's friends as one's servants?" inquired Alicia.
"Oh, yes, invariable custom," he responded. "It's a good idea—does away with the servant problem, you see. When you invite people to dinner, the husbands go off to shoot pheasants, and the wives come in to help cook 'em. When dinner's over they all help wash up; Ted's new to it yet, but he's getting on!"
"We'll soon be able to give Sarah a week's holiday, and have him in every day," annotated Nell.
"Oh, have you a servant?" said Alicia, and Nell's eyes lit with contempt of her petty ill-breeding.
"Well, I wouldn't like to call her that," pondered Denis, thoughtfully, "servantette would be better."
"Will you have some tea?" Nell asked. "I won't be a minute getting it."
"No, thank you."
Ted came in, immaculate in long fawn coat.