“By the way, Stella,” he announced a few afternoons later, standing a
little arrogantly, legs braced apart, and moistening his lips with an
appetizer, “your days of drudging are over forever!”
She raised her eyebrows in question, and he went on: “I’ve ordered Tsuda
to have a couple of Ainu women up here in the morning for you to break
in.”
“Servants, Ferd?” She was amazed.
“Quite at your disposal, my dear. And if they don’t keep hustling and
leave you free to fold your hands like a lady, you let me know!”
“But Ferd—I don’t want any servants—I don’t need any!”
“Oh, yes you do. I know how you hate to wash and sweep.”
“But not any more, Ferd—I’d be quite lost without the housework, what
little there is!”
However, he didn’t like having his efforts set at naught. “Nonsense,”—his
tone was slightly dictatorial. “I don’t propose to have you spend your
life slaving.”
“Please tell them not to come,” she said, turning a little pale, yet not
quite consciously taking a stand. “I don’t want any servants.”
They stood gazing at each other through a moment curiously charged with
something neither had foreseen or suspected.
Slowly a look of sharper lordliness crept into his eyes. “Stella,” he
said, “I’m determined to build up an establishment. We ought to put on
more style, even if we are living ’way out here. A little later I may
train one of the Ainu men for a personal valet.” He smiled a rather
brittle smile. “Do you think they’re pliable enough? It’s necessary to
keep these savages impressed,” he went on, “for the sake of morale, if
nothing else. Anyway—call it a whim, if you want to—I’ve taken a dislike
to having my dear little wife washing dishes and beating mats.” It came
back to her with great vividness how he had frowned and closed his eyes
the morning she had put on her finery to please him. But, smiling a slow,
calm, magisterial smile, he added: “What do you think the world would say
if it could listen to you objecting to help about the house, with the
servant problem what it is in civilized places?”