Dodo paid well and regularly; therefore
she was tacitly allowed certain privileges, not always approved by her
fellow-guests. Diablette had been a standing cause of friction between
Lady Dauntrey and the dog's mistress; but the marmoset, its successful
rival in Dodo's affections, was grudgingly permitted whenever Lord
Dauntrey had borrowed fifty francs or so, to select its own fruit from
the dessert. Some people were even amused at seeing the tiny animal jump
from Dodo's lap on to the table, and pick out the best grapes in an
old-fashioned centre-piece. On the last fatal day, however, Lady
Dauntrey's nerves had been rasped by the loss of her fifth cook. When
the marmoset was taken suddenly and desperately ill in the bread plate,
Eve flew into a rage, and high words passed like rapier flashes between
her and Miss Wardropp. Dodo attributed her pet's seizure to the fact
that Dauntrey fruit was unfit even for a monkey's consumption, and Eve
informed the whole company that Dodo was a disgusting Australian pig.
This was the last insult. Dodo shrilly "gave notice," while the marmoset
was dying in her napkin. The meal ended in confusion; and Miss Wardropp
went away that afternoon with the living Diablette, the dead monkey,
two teddy bears, an umbrella-mosquito-net, and seven trunks.
"Ask that man for your money back!" she advised Mary on the doorstep. "I
don't say go to _her_, for she'd only tell you some lie. 'Lie and let
lie' is her motto. She's reduced lying to a fine art.
Pages:
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311