KITCHEN GOSSIP.
The day was passing--that long, terrible day--in which the moments
seemed to lengthen themselves into hours, while with every one the gloom
about the old house deepened and pressed more heavily down.
Grantley Mellen was in his library still, it had been a busy day with
him; it appeared as if every creature within reach who could invent a
plea of business had chosen that time to trouble him with it.
He was alone at last, and that was well; he was literally incapable of
enduring any farther self-restraint.
He rang the bell and gave strict orders to Dolf:
"Let no one else in to-day; I have letters to write; I will not see
another human being."
Dolf bowed himself out, and took his way to the lower regions, to
communicate to Clo and Victoria the commands his master had given. Those
three servants kept themselves aloof from the few others employed for
tasks which they considered too menial for the dignity of their
position, and these gaping youths and girls were strictly forbidden to
enter the apartment in which Clo had installed herself.
They were perfectly well aware, those three sable dignitaries, that
something was wrong in the house; servants always do know when anything
out of the common routine happens, and no pretence can blind their
watchful eyes.
"Marster says he won't see nobody more," said Dolf, as he entered the
room where Clo was rolling out her pie-crust, and Victoria busily
occupied in watching her.
"I wonder what's come over 'em all," said Vic. "Der's missus was a
walkin' up an' down like a crazy woman--"
"She didn't eat no breakfast," interrupted Dolf, "an' she never teched a
thing yesterday; now she's just done gone out a riden' all alone."
"An' Miss Elsie stretched out on de sofa, lookin' as if she'd cried her
pretty eyes out," went on Victoria. "Says she's got a headache--go
'long; tell dat to blind folks! It's my 'pinion der's more heart-ache
under dem looks dan anythin' else."
"Dat's jis' what I tink," assented Dolf.
Clorinda, from her station at the pastryboard, gave a sniff of doubtful
meaning, tossed her head till her frizzed locks shook, brought her
rolling-pin down on the board with great energy, and remained silent for
the express purpose of being questioned.
"What does yer tink 'bout it, Miss Clorindy?" asked Dolf.
Vic looked a little spiteful at hearing this appeal to Clo, but she was
so anxious for anybody's opinion, that for once she forgot to quarrel.
"I tinks what I tink," said Clo, with another toss of her head and an
extra flourish of the rolling-pin.
"Oh!" said Dolf, quite discomfited.
"Jis' so," said Clorinda.
"Any pusson could have guessed dat ar," put in Victoria, in an irritated
way; "yer needn't make sich a mysteriousness."
"I shall make a mysteriousness or shall luff it alone, jis' as I tink
best," retorted Clo, "so yer needn't go a meddlin' wid my dumplin', Miss
Vic, 'cause yer'll git yer fingers burnt if yer does."
"Don't wanter meddle wid nothin' that recerns you," cried Vic, jumping
at the prospect of a quarrel, since there was nothing to be gained by
amicable words.
"Jis' give me any of yer sarse," said Clo, "and I'll mark yer face smash
wid dis ere dough, now I tells ye?"
"Don't lay a finger on me, cause I won't stand it," shrieked Vic; "yer a
cross ole, ole--dat's what's de matter."
"Go 'long 'bout yer business," shouted Clo, shaking her rolling-pin in a
threatening rage. "Dis ere's de housekeeper's room, an' yer hain't no
business here."
"Much business as you has, I guess; yer ain't housekeeper as I knows on;
yer only potwasher anyhow."
"Missus telled me to use dis room for makin' pies and cakes in till she
got anoder housekeeper, an' I'se gwine ter."
"I don't keer if she did, dat don't make yer housekeeper any more'n
stolen feathers makes a jackdaw an eagle."
"Now, ladies, ladies!" pleaded Dolf, fearful of the extent to which the
tempest might reach if not checked in time. "Don't let us conflusticate
dese little seasons of union by savagerousnesses; don't, I beg."
"Den her leave me alone," sniffled Vic.
"Larn dat gal ter keep a civil tongue in her yaller head if yer want
peace an' composion," said Clo.
"Dat ar's religion wid a vengeance," cried Vic; "a callin' names is
pretty piety, ain't it! I'll jis' see what Elder Brown says ter dat ar
de bery next time I sees him."
"Oh, yes!" said Clo, contemptuous; "yer allers glad ob a 'casion ter
gabble! How's a pusson gwine ter hab religion when dey's persecuted by
sich a born debil; wurs 'en dem in de scripture as was worrying de
swine."
"Laws!" said Vic, with a vicious sneer, "was yer roun wid dat drove
'bout dat time."
"I'll drove yer," cried Clo.
But Dolf interposed again, and luckily Clo's nostrils detected the odor
of burning pie-crust, and she rushed into the kitchen to see if the girl
had allowed her pastry to burn.
Dolf took that opportunity to soothe the angry Victoria, and succeeded
admirably.
"Now, Miss Clorindy," said Dolf, when she had relieved her feelings by
abusing Sally for her carelessness about the pies, and was once more
tranquilly occupied with her work; "now, Miss Clorindy, jis' glorify us
wid yer 'pinion 'bout de 'fairs ob dis dwellin' which we has all noticed
is more mysteriouser dan is pleasant."
"I ain't gwine ter talk, jis' ter be snapped up like a beetle by a
Shanghai," said Clo; "shan't do it, nohow."
Dolf winked at Victoria, and the artful maiden condescended to mollify
her fellow servant.
"Now don't be cross, Clo," said she, "it's bad enough ter hab
conflictions above stairs widout us a mussin'."
"Dem's my sentiments," cried Dolf, "and I knows fair Miss Clorinda
'grees wid dem--she coincidates, if yer'll 'scuse the leetle bit ob
dictionery."
Victoria made a grimace behind Clo's back, but said, graciously:
"I'se gwine ter gib yer dat ar blue handkercher Miss Elsie gub me, Clo,"
she said, "so now let's make up and be comfoble."
"I don't want ter fight," replied Clo, "'taint my way--only I knows my
persition and I 'spects ter be treated 'cording."
The handkerchief was something Clo had coveted for a long time, and the
gift quite restored her good-humor.
"Dat's as it orter be," said 'Dolf. "Peace and harmony once more
prewails, and we's here like--like--de Happy Family as used ter be at
Barnum's Museum," he added, finding a comparison at length, and quite
unconscious of its singular appropriateness.
"I'se gwine to mend dis tablecloth," said Vic, "and I'll set here to do
it--when I go upstairs I'll git yer the hankercher, Clo."
"Oh! laws," said Clo, "yer want it yerself--don't be a givin' away yer
truck."
"I'd ruther yer had it," observed Vic, "blue's allers becoming to yer,
ain't it, Mr. Dolf?"
She made another grimace, unseen by Clorinda, which nearly sent Dolf
into fits, but he restrained his merriment, and answered with the
gravity of a judge:
"Miss Clorindy overcomes whatever she puts on, but since yer wishes my
honest 'pinion, I must say I tink blue's about de proper touch fur her."
Clo grew radiant with delight, but she worked away resolutely, only
observing:
"Victy, dar's a leetle cranberry tart I jis' tuk out ob de oben--it's on
de kitchen table--I 'spect we might as well eat it, cause 'taint big
enough to go on de table."
"I'll fotch it," cried Dolf; "to sarve de fair is my priv'lege."
He darted into the kitchen, bore off the tart from before Sally's
envious eyes, and closed the door so that she could not be regaled even
with a scent of the delicacy.
"I've jis' done gone now," said Clo, "so I'll rest a leetle afore I
'gins dinner. I'll jis' taste de tart to see ef it's good--it kinder
eases my mind like."
"In course it does," said Dolf, and he cut the tart into four pieces,
having an idea that the last slice would revert to him in the end.
They ate the pie and talked amicably over it, while in the end Dolf
received the extra piece by earnestly pressing it on his companions, who
in turn insisted upon his eating it himself.
"Mebby Sally'd like a taste," he said, virtuously.
"Sally, 'deed no!" cried Clo. "It's nuff fur her ter see such tings
widout eatin' 'em--a lazy, good-fur-notin' piece."
"Den ter 'blige yer I'll dispose of it," said Dolf, and he did so in
just three mouthfuls.
"If yer wants my 'pinion 'bout what's gwine on," said Clo, suddenly, as
she rose to pile up the dishes she had been using preparatory to making
poor Sally wash them in the kitchen; "it's jis' dis yer! Dis trouble's
all missus!"
"Missus!" repeated Vic.
"Now what does yer mean?" cried Dolf.
Clo nodded her head several times with gravity and precision.
"Yes, missis," she repeated, with the firmness of a person who meant
what she said, and was fully prepared to defend her opinion.
"What's come over her?" asked Vic.
"Dat's jis' it," returned Clo; "now you've hit it prezact--yer might
talk a week, Victy, and not come inter de pint agin."
Victoria looked at Dolf, and he looked at her, but, however convincing
her own words might have seemed to Clorinda, there was nothing to throw
any light upon their minds.
"Yer's repeatin' wid yer usual knowledge," said Dolf, softly, "but can't
yer sperficate a leetle more clear."
"Mr. Dolf," said Clorinda, rolling up her eyes 'till only the whites
were visible, "when I lives in a house de secrets ob dat house is locked
in my bussom--"
"But ter feller domestics," put in artful Dolf.
"Jis' 'mong us," said Vic.
"I know, I feels dat, and so I speak," replied Clo. "I ain't gwine ter
say Miss Mellen is a favoright ob mine, 'cause she ain't--but she's my
missus. Her ways isn't my ways, dat's all I says, and I hain't
recustomed to bein' brung up so sharp roun' de corners as is her way ter
do."
"Tain't ter be 'spected," said Dolf.
"Mebby 'tis and mebby 'tisn't," returned Clorinda; "I only says I ain't
recustomed to it, dat's all."
"But what do yer tinks happened ter her ter put 'em all in sich a
to-do?" questioned Victoria.
"I ain't prepared ter say ezzactly," replied Clo, "but I tink she's
gwine crossways wid marster and dat lubly angel, Miss Elsie. Dar's a
syrup fur ye! She nebber gubs a pusson orders widout eben lookin' at
'em--she ain't so high and mighty dat de ground ain't good 'nuff for her
ter walk on! Not but what missus a mighty fine woman--she steps off like
a queen, and I tell yer when she's dressed der ain't many kin hold a
candle ter her, and as fur takin' de shine off, wal, I'd jis' like ter
see anybody do dat."
"It's all true," said Dolf, "as true as preachin'!"
"Mr. Dolf," said Clo, gravely, "don't take dem seriousnesses so
lightsome on yer lips."
"I won't," said Dolf, humbly, "I begs ter 'polegise--yer see in gazing
'bout de world a gemman 'quires some parts ob speech as seems keerless,
but dey don't come from de heart."
"I'se glad dey don't," observed Clorinda, "bery glad, Mr. Dolf."
"But what do yer tink missus has done?" demanded Victoria.
Such a straightforward question was rather a puzzler to Clorinda, so she
answered with a stately air:
"Der's questions I couldn't answer eben ter my most intemancies--don't
press it, Victy."
Victoria's big eyes began to roll wildly in their sockets; she was
astonished to find that Clo had for some time seen that things were
going wrong, when the fact had escaped her own observation, and, for the
first time in the course of their acquaintance, she felt a sort of
respect for her usual foe but temporary ally.
"Does yer tink dey's quarr'ling?" she asked.
"When I hears thunder," said Clo, sententiously, "I allers takes it
there's a storm brewin'."
Vic looked more puzzled than ever, and Dolf was not much better off,
though he tried to appear full to the brim with wisdom and sagacity.
"Yer 'members the night missus lost her bracelet, Mr. Dolf?" asked Clo.
"I does bery well."
"When missus bemeaned herself to shout out at me as if I'd been a
sarpint," cried Clo, viciously. "Wal, if ever I see thunder I seed it in
marster's face dat ar night!"
"Oh!" exclaimed Victoria, bundling up her work, "if you and Mr. Dolf has
got secrets to talk ober, I'd better go 'way."
"Who's a destryin' the harmony now?" shouted Clo. "It's raal sinful,
Victory, to give way to temper like you does."
"Oh, dat's all fine 'nuff. But I don't wish to stand in nobody's way.
I'd better take my work upstairs."
"Set still, set still, Miss Victory," urged Dolf. "Der's no secret. We
shall have de uttermost pleasure in making you 'quainted wid de pint in
question."
Clorinda did not look altogether pleased with his eagerness to explain;
she rather liked Victoria to suppose there was a secret between Dolf and
herself; it seemed like paying off old scores, and though in a friendly
mood, Clorinda was a woman still.
"'Splain or not, jis' as yer please," said Vic, tossing her head,
viciously, "it's quite 'material to me."
But Dolf gave a voluble account of what his master and mistress had said
and done the night the bracelet was lost, and ornamented the
conversation beautifully, calling on Clorinda to set him right if he
erred, and the points where Clo most loudly expressed her approval as
being the exact words spoken, were those Dolf embroidered most highly.
"Why, dar goes marster now," exclaimed Victoria, suddenly. "He's gwine
out to walk."
They all rushed to the window to look, as if there had been something
wonderful in the sight, and just then Sally rushed in with a cry:
"The soup's bilin' over, Clo; come--quick!"