As Alex. reached the corner near which Mrs. Groves was sitting he caught the sound of Sherry’s voice, and, stopping, heard what passed between her and Mrs. Groves, his blood boiling as he listened and all his dread of Mrs. Groves disappearing.
“She will do nothing of the sort,” he said, coming forward. “Excuse me,” he continued, “I was coming to find Mrs. Groves and could not help hearing the conversation. Pay for a broken plate! I hope I am not so small as that.”
Mrs. Groves took off her eye-glasses and looked at the young man, while she said: “But, Mr. Marsh, it was one of the most expensive set, not a Haviland, and the servants ought to pay for what they break. They always did in General Walker’s family, where I lived three years.”
“I don’t care a picayune what they do in General Walker’s family, or whether the plate was Haviland, or Royal Worcester, or Dresden, or what it cost.” Alex. began gathering courage from Sherry’s eyes, which fairly danced and seemed to him to show different colors, a trick they had of doing when she was greatly pleased or excited.
She was both now, and the color came back to her face in bright waves as Alex. went on: “I shall have none of my broken ware paid for by my—” he was going to say “servants,” as Mrs. Groves had put that word into his mind, but a glance at Sherry stopped him, and he said, “By any young lady in my employ.”
Sherry’s eyes were like stars as they beamed upon him, while Mrs. Groves gave a kind of gasp, as if either the heat or the “young lady” were too much for her. With a wave of her hand she adjusted her glasses, and taking it for granted that she was dismissed, Sherry left Alex. to have it out with Mrs. Groves. There was an attempt on her part at an argument that the plate should be paid for as a warning to the other girls; otherwise every dish in the house might be broken or nicked before the season was over.
“Let them be nicked and broken. I can get more,” Alex. said, rather hotly for him, “and another thing I must speak of, I can’t have the dinners so long. Two mortal hours we were at the table to-night, and half that time we were waiting for plates and things to come in and go out one at a time. At this rate the day will be spent at the table.”
“What do you mean?” Mrs. Groves asked.
“Why, it is like this,” Alex. replied. “If four fresh plates are needed don’t bring them one at a time at a snail’s pace. It takes forever.”
“Do you want a big tray piled with dishes, as at a hotel or restaurant?” Mrs. Groves asked, and Alex. replied: “Of course not; there is a medium, and I want to save time as well as steps for these girls, who must have been fagged to death. The one who was just here, Fanny, I believe, is her name, was white as a sheet when she dropped her tray. I thought she was going to faint. Evidently she is not used to the work.”