Amber
executed for her a roulade of great sweetness. His voice had not
perhaps the fullness for which it had been noted in earlier years;
but the art with which he managed it was as exquisite as ever. It was
clear to his audience that the veteran artist was hale and hearty.
But Jacynth, relieved on one point, had a misgiving on another. "This
groundsel doesn't look very fresh, does it?" she murmured, withdrawing
the sprig from the bars. She rang the bell, and when the servant came
in answer to it said, "Oh Jenny, will you please bring up another
piece of groundsel for Master Amber? I don't think this one is quite
fresh."
This formal way of naming the canary to the servants always jarred on
her principles and on those of her husband. They tried to regard their
servants as essentially equals of themselves, and lately had given
Jenny strict orders to leave off calling them "Sir" and "Ma'am," and
to call them simply "Adrian" and "Jacynth." But Jenny, after one or
two efforts that ended in faint giggles, had reverted to the crude
old nomenclature--as much to the relief as to the mortification of the
Berridges. They did, it is true, discuss the possibility of redressing
the balance by calling the parlourmaid "Miss." But, when it came to
the point, their lips refused this office.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84