"Oh yes--the work! Let us see it. I'm ready in name and nature for
anything that Miss Woodridge wants of me. I'm just dying to begin."

His voice was raised slightly, with a high comedy jauntiness, for
the benefit of the Chinese waiters who might be lingering to see the
"Mellican man" assume their functions. But it failed in effect. With
their characteristic calm acceptance of any eccentricity in a "foreign
devil," they scarcely lifted their eyes. The young girl pointed to
a deep basket filled with dishes which had been placed on the larger
table, and said, without looking at Reddy:--

"You had better begin by 'checking' the crockery. That is, counting the
pieces separately and then arranging them in sets as they come back from
washing. There's the book to compare them with and to set down what is
broken, missing, or chipped. You'll have a clean towel with you to wipe
the pieces that have not been cleaned enough; or, if they are too dirty,
you'll send them back to the kitchen."

"Couldn't I wash them myself?" said Reddy, continuing his ostentatious
levity.

"Not yet," said the girl, with grave hesitation; "you'd break them."

She stood watching him, as with affected hilarity he began to take the
dishes from the basket. But she noticed that in spite of this jocular
simulation his grasp was firm and delicate, and that there was no
clatter--which would have affected her sensitive ear--as he put them
down. She laid a pencil and account book beside him and turned away.

"But you are not going?" he said, in genuine surprise.