If she were French
or German or Senegambian, in fact anything but a Saleminian, we
might use her; we have always said we needed some one."
Salemina brightened. "I thought myself it might be rather nice--
that is, I thought it might be a way out of the difficulty.
Penelope had thought at one time of bringing a maid, and it would
save us a great deal of trouble. The doctor thinks she could travel
a short distance in a few days; perhaps it is a Providence in
disguise."
"The disguise is perfect," murmured Francesca.
"You see," Salemina continued, "when the poor thing tottered along
the wharf the stewardess laid her on the pile of wool sacks-"
"Like a dying Chancellor," again interpolated the irrepressible.
"And ran off to help another passenger. When she opened her eyes,
she saw straight in front of her, in huge letters, 'Salem, Mass.,
U.S.A.' It loomed before her despairing vision, I suppose, like a
great ark of refuge, and seemed to her in her half-dazed condition
not only a reminder, but almost a message from home. She had then
no thought of ever seeing the owner; she says she felt only that she
should like to die quietly on anything marked 'Salem, Mass.' Go in
to see her presently, Penelope, and make up your own mind about her.
See if you can persuade her to--to--well, to give us up. Try to get
her out of the notion of being our maid. She is so firm; I never
saw so feeble a person who could be so firm; and what in the world
shall we do with her if she keeps on insisting, in her nervous
state?"
"My idea would be," I suggested, "to engage her provisionally, if we
must, not because we want her, but because her heart is weak.
Pages:
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47