From Afar. John Russell Fearn
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my bachelor days Mr. and Mrs. Wilson were pretty nearly father and mother to me.”
Beryl pondered this for a moment, then she looked at Mrs. Wilson steadily.
“My husband may have sentimental attachment towards you, Mrs. Wilson—and towards Mr. Wilson—but as far as I am concerned you are still a servant. You will oblige me by remembering it.... Now what about a meal? I am feeling very hungry.”
“I have it ready in the dining-room,” Mrs. Wilson replied curtly. “By the time you have both freshened up I will be ready to serve it.”
Off she went to the kitchen, positively bristling. I picked up the bags and led the way upstairs with Beryl following slowly behind me, looking about her at the same time. When she came into the bedroom I gave her a grim look.
“Beryl, your attitude’s intolerable!” I snapped. “If Mrs. Wilson and her husband stay on after this I’ll be surprised!”
She took off her hat and straightened her hair before the dressing-table mirror.
“I am not in the least concerned what they do. But I shall continue to treat that woman—and her husband when I see him—for what they are—servants!”
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