The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of Promise — John Shaqi
The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of PromiseMaugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
General
The Canadian: Photoplay title of The Land of Promise
Maugham, W. Somerset (William Somerset)
Attitude change -- Fiction; Canada -- Fiction; Farm life -- Fiction; Husband and wife -- Fiction
"Umph!"
"I should be glad to learn, if you would be good enough to teach me."
"I have little time for teaching," said Gertie ungraciously. "But you
can watch how I do it and maybe you'll learn something."
"Can you wash and iron?" said Gertie while she was kneading her dough.
"Of course I can iron and I can wash lace."
"People round here wear more flannel shirts than lace. I suppose you
never washed any flannels?"
"No, never."
"Have you ever done any scrubbing?"
"Of course not." Nora was beginning to find this catechism a little
trying.
"Not work for a lady, I suppose. Just what does a companion do?"
"It depends. She does whatever her employer requires; reads aloud, acts
as secretary, goes riding and shopping with the lady she lives with,
arranges the flowers, everything of that sort."
"Oh. But nothing really useful."
Nora gave an angry laugh. "It's clear that some people consider a
companion's work useful, since they employ them."
"You take pay for it; after all, it's much the same as being a servant."
"It's not at all the same."
"Ed tells me that sometimes when Miss Wickers, Wickham--whatever her
name was----"
"Miss Wickham."
"That when Miss Wickham had company for dinner, you had to have your
dinner alone."
"That is true."
"Then she considered you sort of a servant," said Gertie triumphantly.
Nora was silent. Gertie having cut her dough into small round pieces
with a tin cutter and put them into her pans, went toward the oven.
"And yet you object to eating at the same table with the hired men."
Having satisfied herself that the oven was at the proper heat, she shut
the door with a bang.
"I've said nothing about it."
"You didn't need to."
"But I most certainly do object to it and I can't for the life of me see
the necessity of it."
"I was what you call a servant for years; I suppose you object to eating
at the table with me."
"What perfect nonsense! It's not at all the same thing. You're my
brother's wife and the mistress of his house."
"Yes, I'm the mistress of the house all right," said Gertie grimly.
"Frank Taylor's an uncommonly handsome man, isn't he?"
"I really haven't noticed."
"What perfect nonsense!" mimicked Gertie. "Of course you've noticed. Any
woman would notice him."
"Then I must be different from other women."
"Oh, no, you're not; you only think you are. At bottom women are all
alike, take it from me, and I've known a few."
"If I can be of no help to you here, I think I'll go and unpack my box,"
said Nora. She felt as if she had borne all she possibly could.
"As you like."
Once in her own room, Nora found it hard to keep back her angry tears.
Only the thought that her reddened eyes would betray her to Gertie at
dinner kept her from having a good cry.
CHAPTER VII
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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