“I don’t know but I ought to report you to the housekeeper, Nance, for keeping such late hours,” Finette answered, jokingly.
“Per’aps I’ll ’port you to your young missus fer de same t’ing!” cried Nance.
“‘Sh! I was fooling, Nance. I had to come out for some fresh air before I went to bed. I’ve been up all night with my lady.”
“In ’nuther tantrum?” inquired Nance, intelligently.
“Yes.”
“Whut’s up now?”
“Master came to-night, and they quarreled as usual.”
“I wonder he don’t leave her for good and all, she’s so aggervating, and he’s the most patientest soul alive,” cried the house-maid, indignantly.
“Well, she is a high one,” giggled Finette, some secret memory seeming to amuse her. Presently she said, confidentially: “Well, she’s been in an outrageous temper since yesterday morning.”
“Fer why?” queried Nance.