A long-distance telephone conversation about six o'clock in the
afternoon between two voices usually so even and composed that the
little pulse of excitement beating through both as they speak now seems
perilous, unnatural. One is Mr. Severance's thin cool speech and the
other--most curious, that--seems by every obsequious without being
servile, trained and impassive turn and phrase to be that of that
treasure among household treasures, Elizabeth.
“My instructions were that I was to call you, sir, whenever I was next
given an evening out.”
“Yes, Elizabeth. Well?”
“I have been given an evening out tonight, sir.”
“Yes.”
“Mrs. Severance has told me that I am on no account to return till
tomorrow morning, sir.”
“Yes. Go on.”
“There are the materials of a small but quite sufficient meal for two
persons in the refrigerator, sir. Mrs. Severance is dining out, sir--she
said.” “Yes. Any further information?”
“Mrs. Severance received a telephone call this morning, sir, before she
went out. It was after that that she told me I was to have the evening.”
“You did not happen to--overhear--the conversation, did you, Elizabeth?”
“Oh no, sir. Mrs. Severance spoke very low. The only words that I could
catch were 'You' at the beginning and 'Please come' near the end. The
words 'please come' were rather--affectionately--spoken if I might make
so bold, sir.”
“You have done very well, Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“There is nothing else?”
“No, sir. Should you wish me to 'phone you again before tomorrow
morning, sir?”
“No, Elizabeth.”
“Thank you, sir. Good-by, sir.”
“Good-by, Elizabeth.”