The Greatest Plague of Life: or, the Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good Servant.Mayhew, Henry
General
The Greatest Plague of Life: or, the Adventures of a Lady in Search of a Good Servant.
Mayhew, Henry
English wit and humor; Household employees
With my usual command over myself, I requested her to take my bridal
robe down, and shake all the smuts off of it in the garden, and to be
sure and take care what she was about with it; as white satin was not to
be picked up in the streets every day. When the minx brought it up
again, I declare I never saw such a grubby thing as it was; and it
looked for all the world like as if it was made out of what the
gentlemen call Oxford mixture; for she had been trying to rub the blacks
off with a damp duster! And yet, it wasn’t advisable to throw it in her
teeth, though I could have given it her well, I could. There was a very
handsome and expensive dress completely spoilt, and made as pretty
ducks-and-drakes of as anything I ever saw. It was of no use to any one,
and only fit to be given away.
I was obliged to put on a high-bodied, quiet-looking, dark,
snuff-coloured silk dress, which mamma had bought me before my marriage,
as it was a good-wearing, serviceable colour, and one that would not
show the dirt. But my troubles were doomed not to cease here; for when I
was _tout-arrangé_, and really thought that I didn’t look so bad, after
all, I found that nothing with any spirit in it was safe in the house
from that abominable toper of a Mary of mine; and that she had
positively been drinking all my _Eau-de-Cologne_, and filling the bottle
up with turpentine; so that when I went to pour some of the perfume down
my bosom, I actually saturated my things with the filthy stuff, and
smelt just like as if I had been newly French-polished.
But, alas! her thievish propensities didn’t stop here; for if she knew
where any drink was kept, she would never rest easy until she had got
it--no matter how. As for locks and keys, bless you! they were of no
more use than policemen. Actually the hussy couldn’t even keep her
fingers off mamma’s excellent cherry brandy; but must go picking and
stealing even that; and (as I found out afterwards, to my cost,) filling
up the bottles with cold tea and new young cherries instead, (the nasty
toad!) And the reader will soon see how it turned out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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