Faster and faster the Senior Surgeon’s temper began to search for a new point of exit.
“What do you suppose the servants think of you?” he stormed, “running round like that, with your hair in a pigtail, like a kid?”
“Servants?” cooed the White Linen Nurse. “Servants?” Very quietly she jumped down from the chair and came and stood looking up into the Senior Surgeon’s hectic face. “Why, there aren’t any servants,” she explained patiently. “I’ve dismissed every one of them. We’re doing our own work now.”
“Doing ’our own work?’” gasped the Senior Surgeon.
Worriedly the White Linen Nurse stepped back a little.
“Why, wasn’t that right?” she pleaded. “Wasn’t it right? Why, I thought people always did their own work when they were first married.” With sudden apprehensiveness she glanced round over her shoulder at the hall clock, and, darting out through a side door, returned almost instantly with a fierce-looking knife.
Color-Tone, engraved for THE CENTURY by H. C. Merrill and H. Davidson
“‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?’ HE FAIRLY SCREAMED AT HER. ‘JUST KEEPING YOU COMPANY, SIR,’ YAWNED THE WHITE LINEN NURSE”
DRAWN BY HERMAN PFEIFER