“Yes, he is tall,” replied Yuah, looking down the hallway toward the parlor.
“You don’t like him?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like him. He is rather queer though, isn’t he?”
“I don’t think he is.”
“Well, I guess I don’t mean that he is,” Yuah explained, turning around. “But is that the type of man you imagined she would go for? I always thought she would be trying to land a sturdy war hero type.”
“That’s your type, dear, not hers.”
“Don’t be thick, Mrs. C. I don’t have a type.”
“Whatever you say.” Mrs. Colbshallow returned to the kitchen and gave the tea tray one more check before sending it off to the parlor with Tilda, the downstairs maid. “You might as well sit down. She’ll be busy with him for another half hour at least.”
“I still don’t see the attraction,” said Yuah.
“Not that you have a type.”
“Not that I have a type,” Yuah sat down.
At that moment, Zeah entered the servant’s hall carrying the mail.
“You have a letter from Mrs. Godwin, Mrs. C,” he said.
“Bless her heart,” said Mrs. Colbshallow. “Poor Mrs. Godwin, running around that great country estate, practically all alone now that Miss Dechantagne and the boys have moved away. I would be going half wobbly if it was me.”
“I wouldn’t mind a bit of peace and quiet, I can tell you that,” said Yuah. “It’s all Yuah fetch me this, and Yuah put that away, and Yuah I need you for something.”
“Yuah,” called a stern voice from the doorway. Everyone in the room jumped and hastily attempted to look busy. Nobody needed to look to see that it was Miss Dechantagne who spoke. Then in a low purr, she said, “Yuah, I need you for something.”
Mrs. Colbshallow, who was facing away from the mistress of the house, rolled her eyes as Yuah passed.