“My husband,” she said happily, “now it will not be necessary to beg that mad Muggridge to quench the fire in his soul.”
“Poor devil,” Dan answered her, and together they returned to the green bungalow. They found Sooey Wan sitting on the steps, mopping his high, bony forehead.
“Kitchen lady queen no hab got. Cookee no can do,” he complained bitterly. “House where leavee trunk kitchen hab got. Cookee can do.”
“You mean that missionary’s house, Sooey Wan?”
The old Chinaman nodded.
“Well, we’ll have to get along without his kitchen, I think, Sooey Wan.” He turned to Tamea. “Have you no kitchen, dear? Strange that your father should build and furnish a house such as this and yet not provide a kitchen.”
“When my father and I left Riva, we did not bother to take anything out of this house. Upon my return many things were missing. All were returned by my people with the exception of the stove, which fell from the shoulders of the men who carried it and was destroyed.”
“Sooey Wan isn’t accustomed to cooking over an open fire. He will be continuously peeved and develop into a frightful nuisance.”
“I shall have my serving women wait upon my husband,” Tamea assured him lightly. “As for this servant of yours, let his task be the catching of fish, which will provide him with amusement. He has labored long and faithfully in your house, dear one. He has earned his rest.”
“I hope he can see his way clear to take it,” Dan sighed. Then, turning to his servant: “Sooey Wan, you’re retired. You do not have to cook any more. From now on your job will consist in enjoying yourself. Tomorrow we’ll find some sort of habitation for you, but for tonight park yourself on the veranda.”