HILARIOUS HOSPITALITY
THE dinner-table was a surprise even to Mrs. Lennox. Although her own
table appointments were fastidiously correct, they had been supplemented
by Jessie’s exquisite arrangement of flowers, and by dainty dinner-cards
which Millicent had that morning painted in water-color.
The two “white-winged angels,” as the immaculate waitresses called each
other, stood like marble statues while the guests entered the
dining-room.
This brought Lady Pendered’s lorgnon again into requisition, and she
scanned Betty and Jessie until, as they afterward declared, they felt
like waxworks at the Eden Musée.
Then the fun began. The two waitresses, intent on doing their best, were
so careful and thoughtful that Mrs. Lennox grew more and more dignified
and important, as befitted the mistress of such a fine establishment.
Hester and Marjorie sent in most deliciously cooked dishes, which were
faultlessly served by the expert waitresses.
Lady Pendered expatiated on the extreme delicacy of her daughter’s
constitution, and averred that the Lady Lucy had absolutely no appetite
and ate literally nothing.
This moved the apparently oblivious Betty to offer Lady Lucy braised
sweet-breads for the second time, and as the fragile one helped herself
bountifully, Jessie again urged upon her the stuffed cucumbers, of which
she again partook.
“My child, my child, you will be ill,” said Lady Pendered, in real and
well-founded alarm.
“I don’t care if I am, mamma,” said the wilful Lady Lucy. “These
American things are very good. Why don’t we have them at home?”
“Tut, tut, my daughter; all the world knows nothing can excel England’s
well-spread boards. This America of yours,” she continued, turning to
Mrs. Lennox, “is a most extraordinary place. I’ve been here but a
fortnight, and that I spent in New York. Very awful town, isn’t it?”
“Do you think so?” said Mrs. Lennox, politely non-committal.
“Indeed, yes. It’s so sudden and unexpected. One never knows what will
happen next.”
“I’m rather fond of New York,” said Mrs. Lennox; “but of course its
homes are different from English country houses.”
“Oh, quite different; and the service is something atrocious. My dear
Miranda, you are to be congratulated on your establishment. I haven’t
seen a decent lady’s-maid since I left England until I reached here.
That pretty Millicent of yours is a treasure.”
Although inwardly convulsed, Betty managed to control her features, and
by biting her lips achieved an expression of intense agony, which was,
however, better than laughing aloud.
Not so Jessie. The sudden mental picture of Millicent assisting these
ladies at their toilet was too much for her, and with a smothered sound,
something between a chuckle and a scream, she hurriedly retreated to the
kitchen.
“What is it?” cried Hester and Marjorie, seeing the waitress appear
unexpectedly and almost in hysterics.
But Jessie had a plucky determination of her own, and, without a word to
the bewildered cooks, she pulled herself together, straightened her face
to an expression of demure propriety, and was back in the dining-room
with her tray in less than two minutes.
But the ordeal was not yet over. When she returned, Lady Pendered was
still recounting Millicent’s virtues.
“Why, really,” said the English lady, “she crimped my fringe quite as
well as Parkins does at home. And my clothes were never brushed more
neatly.”
Millicent brushing clothes! This was almost too much for Betty; but, not
daring to glance at Jessie, she went on about her work, endeavoring not
to listen to any further disclosures.
“Yes, she’s not bad,” drawled Lady Lucy; “she darned a bit of a rent in
my lace bodice, and smiled amiably when I asked her to do up my fine
handkerchiefs.”
Millicent as a laundress! The girls nearly broke down at this. But Mrs.
Lennox’s clear, even voice speaking restored their calm. Surely if she
could preserve her equanimity they ought to do so.
“Millicent is indeed a perfect servant,” the hostess was saying; “but
all of my maids are. I could not wish for a better lot.”
“Dear Mrs. Lennox,” said the languid Lucy, “they do seem superior—all
except that frivolous parlor-maid of yours. We wouldn’t like to have
such a pretty one at home. But then, I have brothers.”
A heavy portière at the end of the dining-room waved convulsively at
this, and the too pretty parlor-maid scurried away to a distant room
where she could enjoy the joke with some of her fellow-servants.
Now one of Hester’s greatest feats was the concoction of Yorkshire
pudding. It was the real thing, and was a favorite dish at the club
table.
On this occasion, therefore, she fairly outdid herself, and when it
accompanied a very English-looking joint to the table, Lady Pendered’s
delight knew no bounds.
“Yorkshire pudding!” she exclaimed. “Ah, Miranda, you have an English
cook.”
As Mrs. Lennox was but very slightly acquainted with her cooks, she felt
a trifle uncertain as to their nationality. But she was not easily
disconcerted, and, turning to Jessie, she said indifferently:
“My head cook _is_ English, is she not?”
“Yes, madam,” replied Jessie; “Hester is English.”
“And my assistant cook, what is her name?”
But the sound of her own voice had been too much for Jessie, and her
wits deserted her entirely. In a half-dazed way she realized that Mrs.
Lennox was asking her to name Marjorie, and, quite without her own
volition, she replied mechanically:
“The Duchess, madam.”
“What!” cried Lady Pendered, raising her eye-glass to look at the
luckless Jessie.
But Betty came quickly to the rescue.
“Yes, Dutch, madam,” she said, addressing Mrs. Lennox; “the cook’s
assistant is Dutch, and her name is Marjorie.”
“So it is,” said Mrs. Lennox, calmly. “I remember now. But really, dear
Lady Pendered, in America one troubles one’s self so little with these
matters. I rarely see my kitchen servants, and almost never have
occasion to call them by name.”
“Wonderful system!” said Lady Pendered, appalled at this state of
culinary perfection. “As a mere gratification of my curiosity, may I see
your English cook? I would be glad to interview one who can make such a
pudding as this.”
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Lennox, though not without some misgivings.
“Jessie, summon Hester to the dining-room.”
“Yes, madam,” said Jessie, and she flew into the kitchen.
“Oh, Hester, Lady Pendered wants to interview you; you’re to come in at
once. And she’ll nearly kill you—she’s so funny, I mean; but do be
careful, Hester, and don’t laugh or anything.”
“Trust me,” said Hester, smoothing out her apron and straightening her
cap.
“Am I sent for?” asked Marjorie. “I don’t care; I’m going anyway. I
won’t be kept out of the fun.”
Jessie returned to the dining-room, followed by Hester. After hesitating
a moment, Marjorie followed, and stood modestly behind her chief. These
tidy and well-favored cooks seemed to rouse Lady Pendered’s ire.
“Well!” she exclaimed. “I never saw anything like it. Are you an English
girl? Where are you from?”
“’Igham Ferrers, your ladyship,” said Hester, dropping a very British
curtsy.
“How long have you been in America?”
“A matter of a year, your ladyship.”
“With whom did you live in Higham Ferrers, that you learned to cook so
well?”
“With the Laveracks, your ladyship; a grand family, and most hexacting.”
With another curtsy, Hester was gone, and Marjorie, too, for with Jessie
and Betty looking at them they felt sure they couldn’t keep from
laughing another moment.
“It’s most extraordinary,” said Lady Pendered; “not only that you should
have such capable and well-trained servants, but that they should all be
such pretty and neat young girls.”
“I trust my servants are always tidy,” said Mrs. Lennox, with great
dignity; and then she resolutely changed the subject, and forced the
conversation into other channels.
After dinner the ladies went for a stroll on the beach, Millicent and
Helen accompanying them, carrying veils, wraps, purses, and other
impedimenta.
The rest of the club-members were much annoyed that the two girls had to
go, for they had planned to have a hilarious dinner of their own after
the more formal meal was over.
But the two lady’s-maids declared they wanted to go, saying it was great
fun to attend on the high-bred foreigners.
And the fun was greatly increased when, on reaching the pavilion, they
met Uncle Ned and Aunt Molly.
Mrs. Lennox greeted these delightful people, and presented them to her
guests.
The lady’s-maids sat, demurely unobtrusive, a little apart from the
group, but not out of range of Uncle Ned’s merry eyes, which twinkled
and winked at them whenever opportunity offered.
“Those are uncommonly pretty attendants you have, Mrs. Lennox,” said
Uncle Ned, in a stage-whisper; but Aunt Molly pulled his coat-tail
furtively, and said, “How blue the sea is to-night!”
Meantime Mrs. Lennox’s usually quiet and dignified home was the scene of
wonderful hilarity.
Jessie and Betty were recounting all the details of the dinner at which
they had served so successfully. Marguerite confessed that she and Nan
had basely spied from behind the portières. Hester and Marjorie owned up
that their iced pudding had failed to freeze properly, and they had had
to send Helen to the confectioner’s for ices.
But all agreed that Mrs. Lennox was a dear, and that they were glad of
the opportunity to help her in her time of need.
Not realizing how fast time was flying, they gathered in the music-room,
and Marguerite played on Mrs. Lennox’s grand piano, while all sang their
favorite songs lustily and with a will.
“Now,” cried Marguerite, “in honor of our distinguished English guests
and our far more distinguished English cook, we will sing ‘Rule
Britannia!’”
At it they went pell-mell, and as the chorus rose high and strong the
beach-party returned, and entered the front door to be greeted by the
assurance that Britons never, never, never should be slaves!