The next morning Emma did not bring hot water for his shaving.  She usually set a pitcher outside his door, but this morning there was none.  He was obliged to go out to the kitchen and prefer a request for some.  “I have jest filled up the coffee-pot and the tea-kettle, and I guess the water ain’t very hot,” Emma said in a malicious tone, as she filled a pitcher for him.

The water was not very hot.  James had a severe experience shaving, and his annoyances were not over then.  There was no napkin beside his plate at breakfast.  He did not like to apply to Clemency, whose cold good morning had served to establish a higher barrier between them, and who sat behind the coffee urn with a forlorn but none the less severe look.  He also did not like to apply to Gordon for fear of offending her.  It was about as bad to ask Emma, but he finally did, in a low tone.

Emma apparently did not hear.  He was forced to repeat his request for a napkin loudly.  Gordon looked up.  “Emma, why do you not set the table properly?” he asked, in a severe tone.

Emma tossed her head and muttered.  She brought a napkin, and laid it beside James’s plate with an impetus as if it had been a lump of lead.  Presently James discovered that he had only one spoon, but he made that do duty for his cereal and coffee, and said nothing.  He was aware of Emma’s eyes of covert, malicious enjoyment upon him, as he surreptitiously licked off the oatmeal, and put the spoon in his coffee.  He began to wonder what he could do, if this state of things was to continue.  It all seemed so absurd, the grievances were so exceedingly petty.  He could not imagine what had so turned Emma against him.  He was even more at a loss where she was concerned than in Clemency’s case.  A girl engaged might find some foolish reason, which seemed enormous to her, to turn the cold shoulder to him, but it was inconceivable that Emma should.  He had always treated her politely, even with a certain deference, knowing, as he did, that she was an old and faithful servant, and as the daughter of a farmer being, in her own estimation at least, of a highly superior station to that of servants in general.  He could not imagine why Emma was subjecting him to these ridiculous persecutions, before which he was almost helpless.  She had heretofore treated him loftily, as was her wont with everybody, except Gordon and Clemency, but certainly she had neglected none of her duties with regard to him.  Miserable as James was concerning Clemency, he could not but feel that if he were to be subjected to these incomprehensible annoyances from Emma, life in the house would be almost impossible.  He could bear sorrow like a man, but to bear pinpricks beside was almost too much to ask.  That noon, when he returned from his rounds, he realized that there was to be no cessation.  Clemency was not at the lunch-table.  Gordon said she had a headache and was lying down.  Emma in passing James his cup of tea, contrived to spill it over him.  He was not scalded, but his shirt-front and collar were stained, thereby necessitating a change, and he was in a hurry to be gone directly after lunch.