Enslee had endured all these disgraces; why should he add one more? Why should he play a part before his own menials? Why should he care what they thought? None the less, as mutinous soldiers keep the line automatically, so a lifetime of paying devotion to the ordinances of etiquette held him to the mark now.
Seeing that Persis had not even made a pretense of lifting her spoon to her lips, he nodded to Crofts, "Take it away."
The failure of a dinner was a catastrophe to Crofts, and he forgot his wonted reticence enough to ask:
"Isn't it good, sir? Sha'n't I tell the chef to—"
His solicitude brought him only a reproof:
"Crofts, if you speak again I'll have the other servants serve the dinner. Take it away, I said."
Hurt and frightened, Crofts hurried the soup and its apparatus off. As he slipped out with his aides the swinging door went "Phew!" and the tapestried figures glanced and whispered together.
As soon as he was alone with his wife, Enslee's voice rose querulously:
"If Dobbs ever leaves us in the lurch again I'll fire him for keeps. This old fool gets on my nerves. Everything is going wrong here. The whole house is falling to rack and ruin. Ought at least to have decent servants—if I can't have a decent wife!"
Persis smiled patiently at this, but as with lips bruised from a blow.