“Bless me! Are you going to fill Linden Fells with men?”
“Not quite. Only three. I want another place inside the house for my assistant, Chick.”
“How would he like to serve as valet?”
“Valet to whom?”
“My father. We always keep a valet for him, and he never in the world knows that he has one, for if there is a commodity in the world for which he hasn’t a particle of use, it is a valet; so you see the position is a sinecure; perhaps your assistant would like it—or, perhaps, you would prefer it to the somewhat arduous one of butler.”
“No, thank you. I’ll stick to the butler.”
“And when do you propose appearing on the scene with your assistants?”
“At once. To-day. I will report within two hours after I know that you are safely at home, and Chick and Patsy will be there before night. And now, as there are other passengers coming on the deck, I’ll leave you. Please do not speak to me or notice me again, no matter what happens. When I appear at the Fells, you can call me by the name of the old butler—Simmons; will that do?”
“Very nicely, indeed. There is only one question I can think of which I would like to ask you, and that is, when shall I have the pleasure of seeing you in person?”