"Yes," she said quietly, "until you get through 'checking.' Then I'll
come back and show you what you have to do next. You're getting on very
well."

"But that was because you were with me."

She colored slightly and, without looking at him, moved slowly to the
door and disappeared.

Reddy went back to his work, disappointed but not discomfited. He was
getting accustomed to the girl's eccentricities. Whether it was the
freshness of the morning air and sunlight streaming in at the open
windows, the unlooked-for solitude and security of the empty room, or
that there was nothing really unpleasant in his occupation, he went on
cheerfully "checking" the dishes, narrowly examining them for chips and
cracks, and noting them in the book. Again discovering that a few were
imperfectly cleaned and wiped, he repaired the defect with cold water
and a towel without the least thought of the operation being degrading.
He had finished his task in half an hour; she had not returned; why
should he not go on and set the table? As he straightened and turned the
coarse table-cloth, he made the discovery that the long table was
really composed of half a dozen smaller ones, and that the hideous
parallelogram which had always so offended him was merely the outcome of
carelessness and want of taste. Without a moment's hesitation he set
at work to break up the monotonous line and rearranged the tables
laterally, with small open spaces between them. The task was no light
one, even for a stronger man, but he persevered in it with a new-found
energy until he had changed the whole aspect of the room. It looked
larger, wider, and less crowded; its hard practical, workhouse-like