He repeated his request a second time, and even Gussie flushed at his
offensive tone, though she called Dexie's attention to the request.
"Dexie, Mr. Plaisted asks for a drink. Where are your manners?"
"I have sent them away for repairs, Gussie dear," Dexie replied, in her
sweetest tone, "and I fear they will not be returned to me until after Mr.
Plaisted has taken his departure. Very sorry, but they have experienced
such a strain these few days past that they were about worn out."
"Dexie, I am ashamed of you! Bring a drink of water for Mr. Plaisted
directly!"
"My dearest Gussie, if Mr. Plaisted wants a drink, pray get it for him
yourself," was the soft and sweet reply, "for he will surely die of thirst
before Dexter brings him a drop. Allow me to suggest that, as an
alternative, you can ring for the servant to wait on him, or lead him to
the pump like any other--beast," and unmoved by the looks cast upon her she
passed into the next room.
"You brought that upon yourself, Mr. Plaisted, but I am very, very sorry,"
said Gussie, who felt all the insolence of the words that were spoken with
such suavity.
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