“What's the row to-day?”
There was an extra metal in the timbre and it had the effect of an old phonographic record, but there was no questioning whose voice it was.
Zada's voice became audibly low in answer.
“She is such a fool she drives me crazy.”
A sullen, servile voice answered: “It ain't me's the fool, and as for crazy—her wantin' me to bring home what they ain't in no market. How'm I goin' to git what ain't to be got, I asts you. This here war is stoppin' ev'y kind of food.”
Cheever's answer was characteristic. He didn't believe in servants' rights.
“Get out. If you're impudent again I'll throw you out, and your baggage after you.”
“Yassar,” was the soft answer.
There was the sound of shuffling feet and a softly closed door. Then Zada's voice, very mellow:
“I thought you'd never come, dearie.”