"The house is in order. You will have your meals at the residence, I suppose, sir," Antoine suggested.
I debated this a moment, and when he hinted that dinner could be more conveniently served there than in my own quarters, I said that for the present the Flynns might give me breakfast and luncheon at the garage, but that I would dine at the house. The original owner of the property, from whose executor my uncle had purchased it with all its belongings, had accumulated a remarkable library, rich in the Elizabethan stuff for which I have a weakness, and it occurred to me that it would be pleasant to eat my solitary dinner at the residence and loaf in the library for an hour afterward. Like most slaves of the inkpot, I habitually postpone actual labor as long as possible, and if I were to dine at the garage I should have no excuse for not plunging at once into my novel. The Tyringham people were domiciled in cottages scattered over the estate, though a full staff of house servants was established in the residence.
It was five o'clock when I reached the garage, and Antoine left me after opening my bags with the suggestion that I could summon Zimmerman, a former valet of the Tyringham, for any service I might require. I knew Zimmerman very well and said I would call him when occasion required.
"He is of that race," said Antoine plaintively in the French which now seemed to come readily enough to his lips.
"Race? Botheration! You mustn't trouble yourself about race questions out here, Antoine. Zimmerman is a good old chap, who's probably forgotten the very name of the German town he was born in."
"They do not forget," Antoine replied with emphasis. "There has been much discussion—much——"
"Forget it, Antoine! I supposed you were all living here like a happy family. You've been sticking too close to the farm, and it would do you good to run into town for a week. Please tell them at the residence that I'll dine at seven."
"Very good, sir," he said in his pompous Tyringham manner, but I saw that he was miffed by my indifference.
Flynn, having disposed of the car, came to ask if there was anything he could do for me. When I had explained my arrangement with Antoine he still lingered.
"Tony's against the wife and me," he said mournfully. "It's the war, sorr, and she and me that lile, sorr, the American flag floats from the garage every day. And if a heart can be lile, Elsie's as true to America as though she was born in Boston State-house."