Looking at her—she seemed hardly more than a girl—I wondered if it might not be a kindness to give her the reason for my sudden departure. Though of course I had never intended to remain long enough to inherit the housekeeper’s position, I had expected to stay three weeks, perhaps four, and give one week’s notice before leaving. Now I determined to tell her my reason for changing my plans—a reason within itself sufficient to cause any conscientious servant to quit her employ. I crossed to the foot of her bed and she smiled up at me. “You really wish to know my reason?” I asked, speaking seriously. She nodded, and, smiling, showed a flash of her perfect teeth. “It is because I don’t care to appear as a witness in a divorce case in which the co-respondent is your husband’s hired servant, your chauffeur.” She stared at me dumfounded. When she understood her face flamed crimson. Then she sprang up in bed and reached out to ring for her maid. “You must not do that,” I told her, and I stepped between the head of her bed and the electric buttons. “You may call your housekeeper but not that Frenchwoman.” “How dare you!” she cried, and her manner was so commonly melodramatic that I almost smiled. “I know the servants in your house better than you know them yourself,” I told her, still holding my position. “And I shall do my best to protect you from yourself.” “Protect me!” she sneered. “You, my husband’s detective! Yes, that’s who you are. My husband got you out here to watch me. You—you sneak!” I let her talk until she wore herself out. When she again tried to ring for her maid I rang for the housekeeper. The housekeeper came. Honest old soul! On these evening trips when she acted as chaperon they had gone in a touring-car. When they stopped at a road-house she had always remained comfortably dozing in the tonneau. “I shall take you straight to your mother, Mildred,” the housekeeper informed Mrs. Sutton, when I had explained the situation. And I realized that she had gone back twenty years, and was again the governess threatening her spoiled charge. “Your mother will know what to do with you.” Feeling in honor bound to clear Mr. Sutton of the suspicion of employing a detective I reminded his wife in the housekeeper’s presence that no person who had entered her home in such a capacity would have given so candid a reason for leaving. The old woman swept the suspicion aside with a wave of her hand. Mr. Sutton was a gentleman, she assured me. There should be no scandal, for Mildred’s mother knew how to manage her daughter. While I was packing my few belongings the housekeeper came to my room. She would always be grateful to me, she said, for ringing for her and not allowing Mildred to call the “French fool.” Then she offered to give me a letter of recommendation and I accepted it. When paying the wages due me she included my railroad ticket back to New York City. Not once did she ask me to hold my tongue.