“She is certainly a domestic treasure,” agreed Polly. “How many years has she been with you?”
Mrs. Hale considered before answering. “She came to us at the time Austin had typhoid fever; the trained nurse wanted a helper—what did she call Anna?”
“Nurse’s aide?” suggested Polly.
“That was it,” and Mrs. Hale smiled. “We persuaded her to stay on as waitress.”
“How did you manage it, Mrs. Hale?” asked Polly. Another glance at her watch showed her that the announcement of luncheon must shortly occur, and she wished above all not to resume answering letters of condolence. “It has always struck me that Anna was very much above the regular servant class.”
“So she is, my dear,” Mrs. Hale was launched on her favorite topic. “But Mr. Hale offered her such high wages, really ridiculous wages at the time, that it wouldn’t have been in human nature to resist his offer. I must say for Anna that she has earned every cent we pay her. Lately”—Mrs. Hale hesitated and surveyed the boudoir to make sure that the hall door was closed—“lately, Anna has appeared so—so absent-minded. Do you suppose it can be a love affair?”
“The most natural supposition in the world,” smiled Polly. “Anna is a remarkably pretty girl.”
“So she is,” Mrs. Hale nodded her head in agreement. “I suspect it is that new clerk in the drug store. I meet them quite often walking together, and I called Austin’s attention to them when he was last in Washington, just six weeks ago to-day.” Mrs. Hale looked at the calendar hanging near Judith’s desk to be sure of her facts. “Polly, if I tell you something will you promise to hold your tongue about it?”
Polly stared at Mrs. Hale—the latter’s tone had completely changed and her customary irresponsible manner had become one of suppressed anxiety.
“Certainly, Mrs. Hale,” she replied, and her manner reflected the other’s seriousness. “I will consider whatever you say as confidential.”