"Not yet, miss," he said. "Your father left sharp orders as
to being disturbed before 8 A. M."
"As it is now 9:30," I observed coldly, "there has been
time enough lost. I am _hors de combat_, or I would have atended
to it long ago."
He had drawn a stand beside the bed, and I now sat up and
looked at my Tray. The orange was cut through the wrong way!
Had I needed proof, dear log or journal, I had it there.
For any _Butler_ knows how to cut a breakfast orange.
"William," I said, as he was going out, "how long have you
been a Butler?"
Perhaps this was a foolish remark as being calculated to
put him on his guard. But "out of the fullness of the Heart the
Mouth speaketh." It was said. I could not withdraw my words.
He turned suddenly and looked at me.
"Me, miss?" he said in a far to inocent tone. "Why, I don't
know exactly. " He then smiled and said: "There are some who
think I am not much of a Butler now."
"Just a word of advise, William," I said in a signifacant
tone. "A real Butler cuts an orange the other way. I am telling
you, because although having grape fruit mostly, some morning
some one may order an orange, and one should be very careful
_these days_.
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