“The women’s come,” said Grady, helping his master to the boots.
“Did you ask ’em if they would take a glass of anything?” asked Altamont.
Grady came out—“He says, will you take anything to drink?” the domestic asked of them; at which Blanche, amused with the artless question, broke out into a pretty little laugh, and asked of Mrs. Bonner, “Shall we take anything to drink?”
“Well, you may take it or lave it,” said Mr. Grady, who thought his offer slighted, and did not like the contemptuous manners of the new-comers, and so left them.
“Will we take anything to drink?” Blanche asked again: and again began to laugh.
“Grady,” bawled out a voice from the chamber within:—a voice that made Mrs. Bonner start.
Grady did not answer: his song was heard from afar off, from the kitchen, his upper room, where Grady was singing at his work.
“Grady, my coat!” again roared the voice from within.
“Why, that is not Mr. Strong’s voice,” said the Sylphide, still half laughing. “Grady my coat!—Bonner, who is Grady my coat? We ought to go away.”
Bonner still looked quite puzzled at the sound of the voice which she had heard.