" Why did you allow your husband's weakness to interfere with
justice ? Such creatures ought to wear a prison dress and pick
oakum for the good of society. What are we coming to when our
own dry-goods are not safe ? And, by the way, you remember that
blue velvet mantilla of mine that I bought in New York last fall?
It disappeared about the same time as Susanna, my fifth housemaid
before the last. But the creature's admirer was in the dyeing busi-
ness and might have turned it pea-green, so I took no steps to re-
cover it. It costs more than a thing is worth to prove one's owner-
ship."
" How about your stout cook, Matilda Pancake, who suited you
so well?"
" So she did at first, but I found out within a month that she had a
weakness for lager beer, which she drank by the gallon. At such
times, she was at first convivial and only noisy, but when she came
into my parlor, while I was receiving some visitors, and abused me
to my face, I ordered her to pack her things and be off. ' Not with-
out a month's wages! ' says she; and when I refused to pay it, she
smashed half my crockery. She called next day to apologize, and
said she suffered with a hot temper caused by standing over the fire.
But, of course, one's life and limbs are not safe with a cook who
drinks, so I refused to take her back. My husband said we had
better try and get along without a cook after such an experience, and
that he would try not to mind it as he could dine at the club."
" You remember that girl Lucretia Muffins, whom I engaged be-
cause her father was a baker and she professed to be skilful in making
bread and pastry. I heard a great kicking on the kitchen floor one
morning, and found the poor thing in a fit all covered with paste. It
seemed, from her statement to our doctor whom I sent for, that she
has the St. Vitus' dance, which comes on whenever she works hard.
She is now in the female wing of the Epileptic Sanitarium. But
I am talking you to death with my own troubles when you have
enough of your own. Do tell me how you manage to get a dinner,
and if you have a good cook."
" UP-STAIRS, DOWN-STAIRS, IN MV LADY's CHAMBER." 77
" I have been almost as unfortunate as yourself, my dear Mrs. S.
At present I have no cook at all, and my nursemaid, Barbara, and
myself have to get the dinners the best way we can. To save trouble,
I generally cook a quarter of mutton, or round of beef, all at once, so
that it may last cold all the week. It does very well, for my poor
husband seems to have no appetite lately, and his business keeps him
away at meal times a great deal. But I should make your blood
run cold if I told you why I parted with my last cook, Lucinda
Waffles. My maid, Barbara, tells it thrillingly now that Waffles is
gone, for, would you believe it, the wretch threatened her life with
the rolling-pin if she ever breathed a word. All I know of the matter
is that my bills became enormous after Lucinda Waffles came to me.
I engaged her on the strength of her advertisement and the reference
she gave me to a merchant in the city, who was strikingly like the
brother just arrived from India, who spent the Sunday mornings
with her in the kitchen when we were all away at church, and only
Barbara was left at home to assist in getting the dinner ready.
Page 44
Presented as published in 1883. Historical recipes may not meet modern food-safety standards. Cook from the modern interpretation, not the original instructions.
AI-modernized reading of the original text
" Why did you allow your husband's weakness to interfere with justice ? Such creatures ought to wear a prison dress and pick oakum for the good of society. What are we coming to when our own dry-goods are not safe ? And, by the way, you remember that blue velvet mantilla of mine that I bought in New York last fall? It disappeared about the same time as Susanna, my fifth housemaid before the last. But the creature's admirer was in the dyeing business and might have turned it pea-green, so I took no steps to recover it. It costs more than a thing is worth to prove one's ownership."
" How about your stout cook, Matilda Pancake, who suited you so well?"
" So she did at first, but I found out within a month that she had a weakness for lager beer, which she drank by the gallon. At such times, she was at first convivial and only noisy, but when she came into my parlor, while I was receiving some visitors, and abused me to my face, I ordered her to pack her things and be off. ' Not without a month's wages! ' says she; and when I refused to pay it, she smashed half my crockery. She called next day to apologize, and said she suffered with a hot temper caused by standing over the fire. But, of course, one's life and limbs are not safe with a cook who drinks, so I refused to take her back. My husband said we had better try and get along without a cook after such an experience, and that he would try not to mind it as he could dine at the club."
" You remember that girl Lucretia Muffins, whom I engaged because her father was a baker and she professed to be skilful in making bread and pastry. I heard a great kicking on the kitchen floor one morning, and found the poor thing in a fit all covered with paste. It seemed, from her statement to our doctor whom I sent for, that she has the St. Vitus' dance, which comes on whenever she works hard. She is now in the female wing of the Epileptic Sanitarium. But I am talking you to death with my own troubles when you have enough of your own. Do tell me how you manage to get a dinner, and if you have a good cook."
"UP-STAIRS, DOWN-STAIRS, IN MY LADY'S CHAMBER."
" I have been almost as unfortunate as yourself, my dear Mrs. S. At present I have no cook at all, and my nursemaid, Barbara, and myself have to get the dinners the best way we can. To save trouble, I generally cook a quarter of mutton, or round of beef, all at once, so that it may last cold all the week. It does very well, for my poor husband seems to have no appetite lately, and his business keeps him away at meal times a great deal. But I should make your blood run cold if I told you why I parted with my last cook, Lucinda Waffles. My maid, Barbara, tells it thrillingly now that Waffles is gone, for, would you believe it, the wretch threatened her life with the rolling-pin if she ever breathed a word. All I know of the matter is that my bills became enormous after Lucinda Waffles came to me. I engaged her on the strength of her advertisement and the reference she gave me to a merchant in the city, who was strikingly like the brother just arrived from India, who spent the Sunday mornings with her in the kitchen when we were all away at church, and only Barbara was left at home to assist in getting the dinner ready.