“If you ain’t satisfied with me, Mrs. Warrener, you can get another girl. I ain’t no common, ordinary servant to be spoke to like that.”
Mrs. Warrener turned about at the lower stair. “What are you, then?” she asked, sharply.
The woman drew a breath of rage. “What am I?” she shrieked. “Why, I’m help, that’s what I am! And I’ve got better clothes than you have upstairs.”
“You can go and put them on,” her mistress said, “and get another place.”
Too excited to realize what the predicament of being without a servant meant in a suburban town, Gertrude did nothing to propitiate, and Eliza left.
From the opposite windows the neighbors watched the departure with astonishment and much interest, for Eliza had been with the Warreners eight years. Her red face shone under her feathered hat at the hack window, and her eyes, when flaming passion was subdued, were full of tears.
As Gertrude, indifferently, and without a word of good-by, paid her her money, Eliza sniffled: “I’d of liked to say good-by to Mr. Warrener—he’s a gentleman.”
When he came in finally to a dinner kept hot on the stove for him, and served by his wife, she informed him:
“I’ve sent Eliza away.” He was stupefied, and could not believe his ears.
“Good gracious! What for?”