Yours always, DODO.
_Puddleford_.
DEAR MOIRA,--The conference was a most interesting affair; the one
going on in Paris could never be half so thrilling. There was a goodly
attendance of servants, and they had their own spokeswoman. We spoke
for ourselves--those of us who were not too dazed at the sight of so
many "treasures" almost within our grasp.
What the servants wanted was not unreasonable. They chiefly demanded a
certain time to themselves during the day, with fixed hours for meals,
evening free, etc.
Then Mrs. Boydon-Spoute got up--you know how that woman loves to
hear herself talk--and said that such demands were outrageous. (It's
easy for her to raise objections. She has somehow paralysed her two
servants into staying with her for over ten years.) She pointed out
that under such conditions the servant would have more freedom than
the mistress; and to allow the working classes to thus get the upper
hand was nothing short of encouraging Bolshevism in the home. Dreadful
thing to say, wasn't it?
The servants got rather restive at that. When I thought of the two
days' washing-up waiting for me at home I retorted with spirit that
servants had as much right to freedom as we, and it was our duty to
guard their interests--and lots of inspired things like that, glaring
at Mrs. Boydon-Spoute the while.
I spoke so well that a cook-general offered herself to me as soon as
the conference was over. She comes in on Monday.
Yours in transports, DODO.
_Puddleford_.
DEAR MOIRA,--Emma, the new maid, has arrived. Harry is as relieved
as I am and was quite cheerful while I was dressing the gash he had
inflicted on his hand while chopping wood. Isn't it strange that men
can never give the slightest assistance in the house without getting
themselves hurt in some way?
Emma promises to be a treasure. If mistresses would only show a little
humanity there never would be any servant trouble at all. It is people
like Mrs. Boydon-Spoute who are responsible for it.
Yours, purring content, DODO.
_Puddleford._
DEAR MOIRA,--I am sorry not to have written for such a long time. I
have been so extremely busy.
You see, when Emma has had her two hours free daily, her
hour-and-a-half off for dinner, with half-an-hour for other meals,
every evening out as well as two afternoons a week, you would be
surprised what little leisure is left to her for the housework.
She gets in what she can, of course, and I do the rest. Doing the
rest, by the way, takes up a great deal of my time. But I generally
have an hour free in the evenings.
Your brave DODO.
_Puddleford_.
DEAR MOIRA,--I am glad to say Emma has gone and I am putting my name
down at a registry-office in the usual way. It's too much of a strain
having "conference" girls in the home.
Who was it said that if we are to allow the working classes to get the
upper hand it was nothing short of encouraging Bolshevism in the home?
Anyhow, I think he--or perhaps it was she--must be right.
I must close rather hastily. I have just heard a terrific crash in the
kitchen; I'm afraid Harry has dropped something on his foot _again_.
Your long-suffering DODO.
* * * * *
"Mr. ----, like a fatherly hen, hovered over all, satisfying
himself that nothing had been omitted that could detract from
their comfort."--_Egyptian Mail._
We cannot imagine any hen, however unsexed, behaving like that.
* * * * *