She could not endure it. How dare
Tonson? She sprang up and rang the bell again and again until its
sound came back to her pealing through the place.
Then she waited again. It seemed to her that five minutes passed
before she heard the smart young footman mounting the stairs slowly.
She did not wait for his knock upon the door but opened it herself.
"How dare Tonson!" she began. "I have rung four or five times!
How dare she!"
The smart young footman's manner had been formed in a good school.
It was attentive, impersonal.
"I don't know, ma'am," he answered.
"What do you mean? What does SHE mean? Where is she?" Feather felt
almost breathless before his unperturbed good style.
"I don't know, ma'am," he answered as before. Then with the same
unbiassed bearing added, "None of us know. She has gone away."
Feather clutched the door handle because she felt herself swaying.
"Away! Away!" the words were a faint gasp.
"She packed her trunk yesterday and carried it away with her on a
four-wheeler. About an hour ago, ma'am." Feather dropped her hand
from the knob of the door and trailed back to the chair she had
left, sinking into it helplessly.
"Who--who will dress me?" she half wailed.
"I don't know, ma'am," replied the young footman, his excellent
manner presuming no suggestion or opinion whatever. He added
however, "Cook, ma'am, wishes to speak to you.
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