Cooks -- Fiction; Household employees -- Fiction; Housekeeping -- Fiction; Married people -- Fiction
"You affect to misunderstand me," she said resignedly, "but I know that
you are impressed in spite of yourself. It is difficult to plant the
seed, but I feel that it is planted. 'As ye sow, so shall ye reap.' I
shall expect to reap, dear young people. Ah, what a pretty home you
have. This cunning little parlor is a veritable curiosity shop. It is
full of pretty gew-gaws." (She looked rather spitefully at the
tiger-head.) "Such a tasteful little home! May I--may I, dear Mrs.
Fairfax, take a peep at the room you give to the dear sister who is so
willing and anxious to wait on you?"
Letitia was about to make an indignant remark. I saw it coming.
Fortunately, Miss Perfoozle didn't appeal to me quite seriously.
"Leave her to me, Letitia," I whispered to my wife, as Priscilla's
bonneted head was momentarily averted. Then to Miss Perfoozle:
"Certainly, my dear mademoiselle," I said, "come this way, and be
lenient with us. We try to do the best we can for our dear sisters."
I led her to our bedroom. It was a pretty room, small but natty. The
brass bedstead was elaborate with onyx trimmings. There was a handsome,
pale-blue satin eiderdown upon it. A large cheval-glass stood in the
corner, beveled and glistening. The bureau was littered with dainty bits
of silver--puff-boxes, manicure articles, hair-curlers, brushes, combs,
jars, bottles, cases. There were two windows, from each of which trailed
expensive curtains of Renaissance lace.
"This is cook's room," I said, biting my lips, while Letitia stuffed a
small lace handkerchief into her mouth. "Of course, it is very small
but--"
"It is charming," cried Miss Perfoozle ingenuously. "Positively, my dear
Mrs. Fairfax, I shouldn't mind it in the least for myself. I
believe--nay, I am sure--that I could put up with it."
"Oh, Miss Perfoozle!" I exclaimed deprecatingly, "how can you say such a
thing? It is kind of you. You are trying to put us at our ease."
"Was this Mrs. McCaffrey's room?" she asked, a tinge of suspicion in her
tone.
"Certainly," I cheerfully lied, "Birdie and her dear little child both
slept here. My wife was so sorry that there wasn't a night-nursery for
the little one. Yes, Miss Perfoozle, they both slept here, until the
child contracted that horrid case of mumps."
"Ah, there is running water in the room," exclaimed Perfoozle, spotting
the marble basin. "It is always unhealthy. I look upon it as distinctly
unsanitary. Probably it accounts for the child's illness. There are
exhalations of a miasmatic nature from these running water arrangements.
Otherwise, Mrs. Fairfax, I have no fault to find with the room. It is
appointed far better than is the custom."
"It is appointed far better than our own room, Miss Perfoozle," I
declared, with assumed indignation. "Let me show you our apartment. It
is plain, but--it does for us."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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