"Fragments from their dream of human life."
Where COULD the children have picked up the original of such absurd
nonsense?
Aunt Judy had no time to make it out, for now the mincing voices
began again, and she sat listening.
"Have YOU had no curious adventures with your maids, ma'am?" inquires
No. 5 of No. 4.
No. 5 makes an attempt at a bewitching grin as he speaks, fanning
himself with a fan which he has had in his hand all the time he was
telling his story.
"Well, ladies," replied No. 4, only just able to compose herself to
talk, "I don't think I HAVE been quite as fortunate as yourselves in
having so many extraordinary things to tell. My servants have been
sadly common-place, and done just as they ought. But still, ONCE,
ladies--once, a curious little incident did occur to me."
"Oh, ma'am, I entreat you--pray let us hear it!" burst from all the
ladies at once.
No. 4 had to bite her lip to preserve her gravity, and then she
turned to No. 5 -
"The fan, if you please, ma'am!"
The rule was, that the one fan was placed at the disposal of the
story-teller for the time, so No. 5 handed it to No. 4, with a
graceful bow; and No. 4 waffed it to and fro immediately, and began
her account:-
"People are so unscrupulous you see, ladies, about giving characters.
It's really shocking. For my part, I don't know what the world will
come to at last. We shall all have to be our own servants, I
suppose. People say anything about anything, that's the fact! Only
fancy, ma'am, three different ladies once recommended a cook to me as
the best soup-maker in the country. Now that sounded a very high
recommendation, for, of course, if a cook can make soups, she can do
anything--sweetmeats and those kind of things follow of themselves.
So, ma am, I took her, and had a dinner-party, and ordered two soups,
entirely that I might show off what a good cook I had got. Think
what a compliment to her, and how much obliged she ought to have
been! Well, ma'am, I ordered the two soups, as I said, one white,
and the other brown; and everything appeared to be going on in the
best possible manner, when, as I was sitting in the drawing-room
entertaining the company, I was told I was wanted.
"When I got out of the room, there was the man I had hired to wait,
and says he:-
"'If you please, ma'am where are the knives? I can't find any at
all!'
"'No knives!' says I. 'Dear me, don't come to me about the knives.
Ask the cook, of course.'
"'Please, ma'am, I have asked her, and she only laughed.'
"'Then,' said I, 'ask the housemaid. It's impossible for me to come
out and look for the knives.'
"Well, ladies," continued No. 4, "would you believe it?--could anyone
believe it?--when I sat down to dinner, and began to help the soup,
no sooner had the silver ladle (MY ladle is silver, ladies) been
plunged into the tureen, than a most singular rattling was heard.
"'William,' cried I, half in a whisper, to the waiter who was holding
the plate, 'what in the world is this? Surely Cook has not left the
bones in?'
"'Please, ma'am, I don't know,' was all the man could say.
"Well--there was no remedy now, so I dipped the ladle in again, and
lifted out--oh! ma'am, I know if it was anybody but myself who told
you, you wouldn't believe it--a ladleful of the lost knives! There
they were, my best beautiful ivory handles, all in the white soup!
And while I was discovering them, the gentleman at the other end of
the table had found all the kitchen-knives, with black handles, in
the brown soup!
"There never was anything so mortifying before. And what do you
think was Cook's excuse, when I reproached her?
"'Please, ma'am,' said she, 'I read in the Young Woman's Vademecum of
Instructive Information, page 150, that there was nothing in the
world so strengthening and wholesome as dissolved bones, and ivory-
dust; and so, ma'am, I always make a point of throwing in a few
knives into every soup I have the charge of, for the sake of the
handles--ivory-handles for white soups, ma'am, and black-handles for
the browns!'"
Thunders of applause interrupted Cook's excuse at this point, and No.
7 was so overcome that he pushed his chair back, and performed three
distinct somersets on the floor, to the complete disorganization of
his head-dress, which consisted of a turban, from beneath which hung
a cluster of false curls.
Turban and wig being replaced, however, and No. 7 reseated and
composed, No. 4 proceeded:-
"Cook generally takes them out, she informed me, ladies, before the
tureens come to table; 'but,' said she, 'my back was turned for a
minute here, ma'am, and that stupid William carried them off without
asking if they were ready. It's all William's fault, ma'am; and I
don't mean to stay, for I don't like a place where the man who waits
has no tact!'
"Now, ladies," continued No. 4, "what do you think of that by way of
a speech from a cook? And I assure you that a medical man's wife, to
whom I mentioned in the course of the evening what Cook had said
about dissolved bones, told me that her husband had only laughed, and
said Cook was quite right. So she hired the woman that night
herself, and I have been told in confidence since--you'll not repeat
it, therefore, of course, ladies?"
"Of course not!" came from all sides.
"Well, then, I was told that, before the year was out, the family
hadn't a knife that would cut anything, they were so cankered with
rust. So much for education and learning to read, as you justly
observed, ma'am, before!"
When the emotions produced by this tale had a little subsided, No. 7
was called upon for his experience of maids.
No. 7, with the turban on his head, and a fine red necklace round his
throat, said he took very little notice of the maids, but that he
once had had a very tiresome little boy in buttons, who was extremely
fond of sugar, and always carried the sugar-shaker in his pocket, and
ate up the sugar that was in it, and when it was empty, filled it up
with magnesia.
"But ONCE," he added, "ladies, he actually put some soda in. It was
at a party, and we had our first rhubarb tart for the season, and the
company sprinkled it all over with the soda and began to eat, but
they were too polite to say how nasty it was. But, of course, when I
was helped I called out. And what do you think the boy in buttons
said?"
Nobody could guess, so No. 7 had to tell them.
"He said he had put it in on purpose, because he thought it would
correct the acid of the pie. So I said he had best be apprenticed to
a doctor; so he went--I dare say, ma'am, it was the same doctor who
took your cook--but I never heard of him any more, and I've never
dared to have a boy in buttons again."
"A very wise decision, ma'am, I'm sure!" cried Aunt Judy, who came up
to the wonderful tea-table in the midst of the last mound of
applause. "And now may I ask what game this is that you are playing
at?"
"Oh, we're telling Cook Stories, Aunt Judy," cried No. 6, seizing her
by the arm; "they're such capital fun! I wish you had heard mine;
they were laughing at it when you first came in!"
"It must have been delicious, to judge by the delight it gave,"
replied Aunt Judy, smiling, and kissing No. 6's oddly bedizened up-
turned face. "But what I want to know is, what put Cook Stories, as
you call them, into your head?"
"Oh! don't you remember--" and here followed a long account from No.
6 of how, about a week before, the little ones had gone somewhere to
spend the day, and how it had turned out a very rainy day, so that
they could not have games out of doors with their young friends, as
had been expected, but were obliged to sit a great part of the time
in the drawing-room, putting Chinese puzzles together into stupid
patterns, and playing at fox-and-goose, while the ladies were talking
"grown-up conversation," as No. 6 worded it, among themselves; and,
of course, being on their own good behaviour, and very quiet, they
could not help hearing what was said. "And, oh dear, Aunt Judy,"
continued No. 6, now with both her arms holding Aunt Judy, of whom
she was very fond, (except at lesson times!) round the waist, "it was
so odd! No. 7 and I did nothing at last but listen and watch them;
for little Miss, who sat with us, was shy, and wouldn't talk, and it
was so very funny to see the ladies nodding and making faces at each
other, and whispering, and exclaiming, how shocking! how abominable!
you don't say so! and all that kind of thing!"
"Well, but what was shocking, and abominable, and all that kind of
thing?" inquired Aunt Judy.
"Oh, I don't know--things the nurses, and cooks, and boys in buttons
did. Almost all the ladies had some story to tell--all the servants
had done something or other queer--but especially the cooks, Aunt
Judy, there was no end to the cooks. So one day after we came back,
and we didn't know what to play at, I said: 'Do let us play at
telling Cook Stories, like the ladies at -- .' So we've dressed up,
and played at Cook Stories, ever since. Dear Aunt Judy, I wish you
would invent a Cook Story yourself!" was the conclusion of No. 6's
account.
So then the mystery was out. Aunt Judy's wonderings were cut short.
Out of the real life of civilized intelligent society had come those
"Fragments from their dream of human life,"
which Aunt Judy had called absurd nonsense. And absurd nonsense,
indeed, it was; but Aunt Judy was seized by the idea that some good
might be got out of it.