“Yessir, it’ll be along right now.”
Then she continued to flick the table in other directions.
“I ordered breakfast for six o’clock. This is the slackest place I ever knew. I shall talk to Morton and see if things can’t be altered. Just go and rouse that cook up. I’ve got to make Leonville before two.”
The girl gave a final angry flick at an imaginary crumb and flounced off in the direction of the kitchen. The next moment her shrill voice was heard addressing the cook.
“Mr. Grey wants his breakfast––sharp, Molly. Dish it up. If it ain’t done it’s his look-out. There’s no pleasing some folks. I s’pose Mr. Chillingwood’ll be along d’rectly. Better put something on for him or there’ll be a row. What’s that––steak? That ain’t no good for Mr. Robb. He wants pork chops. He never eats anything else for breakfast. Says he’s used to pork.”
The girl returned to the breakfast room bearing Grey’s steak and some potatoes. Coffee followed quickly, and the officer attacked his victuals hungrily. Then Robb Chillingwood appeared.
Leslie Grey was about to rate the girl for her remarks to the cook, but Robb interrupted him.
“Well, how does the bridegroom feel?” he asked cheerily.
“Shut up!”