Ruin stared us in the face. Were our cherished plans to be frustrated
by a marauding cow, who little realised that she was imperilling her
own means of existence? Were we to turn away three, five, nine thirsty
customers at one fell swoop? Never! None of these people ever saw me
before, nor would ever see me again. What was to prevent my serving them
with tea? I had on a pink cotton gown,--that was well enough; I hastily
buttoned on a clean painting apron, and seizing a freshly laundered
cushion cover lying on the bureau, a square of lace and embroidery, I
pinned it on my hair for a cap while descending the stairs. Everything
was right in the kitchen, for Mrs. Bobby had flown in the midst of her
preparations. The loaf, the bread-knife, the butter, the marmalade, all
stood on the table, and the kettle was boiling. I set the tea to draw,
and then dashed to the door, bowed appetisingly to the visitors, showed
them to the tables with a winning smile (which was to be extra), seated
the children maternally on the steps and laid napkins before them,
dashed back to the kitchen, cut the thin bread-and-butter, and brought
it with the marmalade, asked my customers if they desired cream, and
told them it was extra, went back and brought a tray with tea, boiling
water, milk, and cream. Lowering my voice to an English sweetness, and
dropping a few h's ostentatiously as I answered questions, I poured
five cups of tea, and four mugs for the children, and cut more
bread-and-butter, for they were all eating like wolves. They praised
the butter. I told them it was a specialty of the house. They requested
muffins. With a smile of heavenly sweetness tinged with regret, I
replied that Saturday was our muffin day; Saturday, muffins; Tuesday,
crumpets; Thursday, scones; and Friday, tea-cakes. This inspiration
sprang into being full grown, like Pallas from the brain of Zeus. While
they were regretting that they had come on a plain bread-and-butter day,
I retired to the kitchen and made out a bill for presentation to the
oldest man of the party.
s. d.
Nine teas. . . . 3 6
Cream . . . . 3
Bread-and-butter . . 1 0
Marmalade. . . . 6
-----
5 3
Feeling five and threepence to be an absurdly small charge for five
adult and four infant teas, I destroyed this immediately, and made out
another, putting each item fourpence more, and the bread-and-butter
at one-and-six. I also introduced ninepence for extra teas for the
children, who had had two mugs apiece, very weak. This brought the total
to six shillings and tenpence, and I was beset by a horrible temptation
to add a shilling or two for candles; there was one young man among the
three who looked as if he would have understood the joke.
The father of the family looked at the bill, and remarked quizzically,
“Bond Street prices, eh?”
“Bond Street service,” said I, curtsying demurely.
He paid it without flinching, and gave me sixpence for myself. I was
very much afraid he would chuck me under the chin; they are always
chucking barmaids under the chin in old English novels, but I have never
seen it done in real life. As they strolled down to the gate, the second
gentleman gave me another sixpence, and the nice young fellow gave me
a shilling; he certainly had read the old English novels and remembered
them, so I kept with the children. One of the ladies then asked if we
sold flowers.
“Certainly,” I replied.
“What do you ask for roses?”
“Fourpence apiece for the fine ones,” I answered glibly, hoping it was
enough, “thrippence for the small ones; sixpence for a bunch of sweet
peas, tuppence apiece for buttonhole carnations.”
Each of the ladies took some roses and mignonette, and the gentlemen,
who did not care for carnations in the least, weakened when I approached
modestly to pin them in their coats, a la barmaid.
At this moment one of the children began to tease for a canary.
“Have you one for sale?” inquired the fond mother.
“Certainly, madam.” (I was prepared to sell the cottage by this time.)
“What do you ask for them?”
Rapid calculation on my part, excessively difficult without pencil and
paper. A canary is three to five dollars in America,--that is, from
twelve shilling to a pound; then at a venture, “From ten shillings to a
guinea, madam, according to the quality of the bird.”
“Would you like one for your birthday, Margaret, and do you think you
can feed it and take quite good care of it?”
“Oh yes, mamma!”
“Have you a cage?” to me inquiringly.
“Certainly, madam; it is not a new one, but I shall only charge you a
shilling for it.” (Impromptu plan: not knowing whether Mrs. Bobby had
any cages, or if so where she kept them, to remove the canary in Mrs.
Bobby's chamber from the small wooden cage it inhabited, close the
windows, and leave it at large in the room; then bring out the cage and
sell it to the lady.)
“Very well, then, please select me a good singer for about twelve
shillings; a very yellow one, please.”
I did so. I had no difficulty about the colour; but as the birds all
stopped singing when I put my hand into the cages, I was somewhat at a
loss to choose a really fine performer. I did my best, with the result
that it turned out to be the mother of several fine families, but no
vocalist, and the generous young man brought it back for an exchange
some days afterwards; not only that, but he came three times during the
next week and nearly ruined his nervous system with tea.
The party finally mounted the char-a-bancs, just as I was about to offer
the baby for twenty-five pounds, and dirt cheap at that. Meanwhile I
gave the driver a cup of lukewarm tea, for which I refused absolutely to
accept any remuneration.
I had cleared the tables before Mrs. Bobby returned, flushed and
panting, with the guilty cow. Never shall I forget that good dame's
astonishment, her mild deprecations, her smiles--nay, her tears--as she
inspected my truly English account and received the silver.
s. d.
Nine teas. . . . 3 6
Cream . . . . 7
Bread-and-butter . . 1 6
Extra teas. . . . 9
Marmalade. . . . 6
Three tips. . . . 2 0
Four roses and mignonette. 1 8
Three carnations . . 6
Canary . . . . 12 0
Cage . . . . 1 0
------
24 0
I told her I regretted deeply putting down the marmalade so low as
sixpence; but as they had not touched it, it did not matter so much, as
the entire outlay for the entertainment had been only about a shilling.
On that modest investment, I considered one pound three shillings a very
fair sum to be earned by an inexperienced 'licensed victualler' like
myself, particularly as I am English only by adoption, and not by birth.