Ruth's nurse, Mrs. Jiff, was fat, elephantine, and unctuous. Nursing
agreed with her. She had "tasted" too many bowls of wine-whey on the
stairs, tipped up too many bottles of porter in the closet, slid down
too many slippery oysters before handing them to "her lady," not to
do credit to her pantry devotions. Mrs. Jiff wore an uncommonly stiff
gingham gown, which sounded, every time she moved, like the rustle of a
footfall among the withered leaves of autumn. Her shoes were new, thick,
and creaky, and she had a wheezy, dilapidated-bellowsy way of breathing,
consequent upon the consumption of the above-mentioned port and oysters,
which was intensely crucifying to a sick ear.
Mrs. Jiff always "forgot to bring" her own comb and hair brush. She
had a way, too, of opening drawers and closets "by mistake," thereby
throwing her helpless victim into a state of profuse perspiration. Then
she would go to sleep between the andirons, with the new baby on the
edge of her knee, in alarming proximity to the coals; would take a
pinch of snuff over the bowl of gruel in the corner, and knock down
the shovel, poker, and tongs, every time she went near the fire;
whispering--sh--sh--sh--at the top of her lungs, as she glanced in the
direction of the bed, as if its demented occupant were the guilty cause
of the accident.
Mrs. Jiff had not nursed five-and-twenty years for nothing. She
particularly affected taking care of young mothers, with their first
babies; knowing very well that her chain shortened, with every after
addition to maternal experience: she considered herself, therefore,
quite lucky in being called upon to superintend little Daisy's advent.
It _did_ occasionally cross Ruth's mind as she lay, almost fainting with
exhaustion, on the pillow, while the ravenous little Daisy cried, "give,
give," whether it took Mrs. Jiff two hours to make _one_ cup of tea, and
brown _one_ slice of toast; Mrs. Jiff solacing herself, meanwhile, over
an omelette in the kitchen, with Betty, and pouring into her ready ears
whole histories of "gen'lemen as wasn't gen'lemen, whose ladies she
nursed," and how "nobody but herself knew how late they _did_ come home
when their wives were sick, though, to be sure, she'd scorn to tell of
it!" Sometimes, also, Ruth innocently wondered if it was necessary for
the nurse to occupy the same bed with "her lady;" particularly when
her circumference was as Behemoth-ish, and her nose as musical as Mrs.
Jiff's; and whether there would be any impropriety in her asking her
to take the babe and keep it quiet _part_ of the night, that she might
occasionally get a nap. Sometimes, too, she considered the feasibility
of requesting Mrs. Jiff not to select the time when she (Ruth) was
sipping her chocolate, to comb out her "false front," and polish up her
artificial teeth; and sometimes she marvelled why, when Mrs. Jiff paid
such endless visits to the kitchen, she was always as fixed as the North
Star, whenever dear Harry came in to her chamber to have a conjugal chat
with her.