“Well, first he gave that funny giggle o’ his, then he slips the card in his pocket, and asks me where I got it.” Maud paused dramatically. “When I said I found it on Major Richards’ dresser he looked at me kinda funny and”—a violent sneeze interrupted the recital—“then he gave me a raise in wages.”
“Bless me!” Anna ejaculated admiringly. “That was smart work, Maud.”
Her companion smiled deprecatingly. “’Tain’t nothing to what I can do when I set my mind to it,” she replied. “I just happened on Major Richards’ cards. How’s your ankle?”
The waitress started at the abruptness of the question.
“It is not so painful,” she said, and glanced significantly at the clock on the mantel. “Isn’t it ’most time for you to see about setting the table for dinner?”
“No; the family’s dining out to-night,” rejoined Maud, “so that me and cook can rest up. Mrs. Hale is pretty much of a fool, but she is considerate of us. There are times,” added Maud in a burst of confidence, “when I feel darn sorry for her.”
“Don’t let your sympathies get the better of your judgment,” warned Anna. “Mr. and Mrs. Hale are—well, you might say ‘discordantly’ happy.”
Maud wrinkled her brows. “If you are hinting they like to fuss, you are dead right,” she acknowledged. “There’s one thing odd I’ve noticed to-day”—She paused to contemplate herself in the mirrored door with inward satisfaction; the simple black dress on her slight, trim figure and neat white collar and cuffs, which Mrs. Hale insisted should be worn by her servants, was becoming.
“What were you noticing to-day?” asked Anna, growing impatient as the pause became prolonged.
“That Mrs. Hale and Miss Polly Davis were getting as thick as thieves,” explained Maud. “I ain’t never seen them so loving.”