“No, my revenge will keep,” laughed Maynard. “You look used up, Burnham; too much concentration is bad for you.”
Burnham yawned in answer and Palmer, rising, lounged over to where Dr. Hayden lay comfortably sleeping, snoring lustily.
“Wake up,” he exclaimed and enforced his remark with a vigorous shake. “Maynard’s come and Siki has some refreshments ready for us.” His words were borne out by the entrance of the Japanese with a tray laden with sandwiches and a cellarette. Siki vanished, to return a minute later with a chafing-dish containing lobster à la Newburg which he placed on a table set for four places.
Dr. Hayden sat up and rubbed his sleepy eyes. Catching sight of Maynard he bowed cordially as he joined the others about the table.
“Good cook, Siki,” he remarked a little later after sampling the hot lobster. “You are lucky to have so excellent a servant, Palmer.”
Palmer made a wry face. “I won’t have him long,” he grumbled. “He gave notice to-day; these rich newcomers are playing hob with the domestic service in Washington.” He paused and glanced significantly at Burnham. “Don’t be so niggardly with the decanter; pass it along,” he suggested.
Burnham was about to comply when Hayden held up a protesting hand.
“Go easy, Palmer, or you will have another attack,” he cautioned.
Palmer grinned sheepishly at Maynard. “Take my advice,” he said. “Don’t invite your physician to share your apartment if you want to enjoy life. Hayden finds fault every time I forget I am on the water-wagon.”
“Some people have peculiar ideas regarding their welfare,” retorted Hayden. “Your heart won’t stand many more attacks; so go easy.” Observing Palmer’s obstinate expression, he added, “Move the decanter out of Palmer’s way, Maynard, there’s a good fellow.”