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She was at a tea this afternoon and ate too many sandwiches." "Humph!" Mitchell sniffed, playfully. "You know that wasn't it. She asked Jincy to bring something up to her. She told me she simply would not break in on you two this first evening." "Father is getting to be a great tease, Dick," Irene smiled. "The money he has made lately has fairly turned his head. Please don't notice him."
With a sly look and a low impulsive titter of amusement the yellow girl restored a vase to its place and turned into the study adjoining. "Get out of there, too!" Mitchell ordered. "I want to read my paper, and you make me nervous with your swishing and knocking about." "I can slide the doors to," Jincy suggested, as she stood hesitatingly in the wide opening.
"You ought to have more patience with the servants, father," she said, testily. "Jincy is slow enough, heaven knows, without you giving her excuses for being behind with her work. Now she will go to the kitchen and hinder the cook. If you only knew how much trouble servants are to manage you'd be more tactful. Half a dozen women in this town want that girl, and she knows it. Mrs.
In the hall they met Jincy, the maid. "Tell my daughter to order dinner," he said, curtly, "and ask her to come down." The two men stood near the big screened fireplace and plain white marble mantelpiece. There was a rustling sound on the stair in the hall, and Irene came in. She was beautifully attired in a gown Mostyn had not yet seen. It was most becoming. How strange!
He was tall, seventy-five years of age, slender and erect, had iron-gray hair and a mustache and pointed goatee of the same shade. He was hanging his hat on the carved mahogany rack in the hall when Jincy, a young colored maid, came from the main drawing-room on the right. She had a feather duster in her hand and wore a turban- like head-cloth, a neat black dress, and a clean white apron.
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