Again the habit of years conquered. Graves nodded. But to the button on the motor horn he said dazedly:
“He’s got the gall of a burglar! Here I go out of my way to help him and he throws a monkey wrench into the machinery. Very well, boss! If you can stand it I guess I can. I ain’t got no proud flesh!”
With a sinking heart he obeyed and stood beside the car watching Dan Pritchard steer Tamea up the steps; saw the incomprehensible man open the street door with his latchkey; saw him propel Tamea gently through the portal and follow; saw the door close on the incipient scandal!
Then he looked carefully up and down the street and satisfied himself that he had been the only witness to the amazing incident; whereupon he put the car up and hastened into the servants’ dining room to ascertain what, if any, impression had been created upon Mrs. Pippy, the housekeeper, Julia, the maid, and Sooey Wan, the Chinese cook, who, with Graves, constituted the Pritchard ménage.
As Graves took his seat at the servants’ table and gazed inquisitively through the door into the kitchen where Sooey Wan, squatted on his heels, was glowering at something in the oven, Pritchard entered the kitchen. Sooey Wan looked up at him but did not deem it necessary to stand up.
“Boss,” he demanded, “wha’ for you allee time come home late for dinner?”
“I don’t come home late for dinner all the time. Confound your Oriental hide, Sooey Wan, are you never going to quit complaining?”
The imperturbable Sooey Wan glanced at the alarm clock on an adjacent shelf.
“You klazy, boss,” he retorted. “You fi’, ten, fi’teen, twenty-fi’ minutes late. Dinner all spoil, ever’thing go lotten boss don’ come home on time.”
“Go to thunder, you old raven! Quit your croaking,” Dan admonished the heathen.