A FALL IN THE KITCHEN.
Lucy felt wonderfully cheered and strengthened as Christmas approached.
She was working hard and successfully. She had completed her sketches
and had received payment for them, and she meant to give herself a
little holiday from Christmas Eve until after the New Year, so that she
might go fresh and bright to take her class at the Institute, which
would re-open on January 3rd.
“Giving herself holiday” only signified that Lucy hoped to enjoy a week
of her old life as Hugh’s mother and as general housewife. Like many
who have special gifts, Lucy really enjoyed house-work and needlework.
She intended in this interval to so overhaul book-cases, china cupboard
and linen closet, that she might afterwards apply herself to her
“professional” work with the contented assurance that her household
would run on for awhile without other care than the worthy Mrs. Morison
seemed able and willing to give.
Lucy felt that she had indeed found a treasure! She had not yet
despatched any letter to Charlie, as the _Slains Castle_ would not
touch at its first port for fully three months, and it was not yet
quite time for the mail which would take a letter there to await his
arrival. But though the letter was not despatched, it was begun. It had
been begun the day after she got Charlie’s farewell telegram, and a few
lines had been added every night.
Now the letter would soon have to be despatched, and as Lucy sat down
to her desk on Christmas Eve, she felt that she could safely tell the
whole story of Pollie’s departure, and of the blessing which filled her
vacant place. Mrs. Morison had been in the kitchen nearly two months,
and every day she gave greater satisfaction. She had thrown herself
with great zest into the idea of the Christmas party, and Lucy began
to think that under this cook’s skilled fingers her festive dishes
would probably achieve perfections at which she and poor Pollie had
never aimed. As she sat writing to Charlie concerning the domestic
good fortune which had befallen her, she felt her heart grow very
soft towards this middle-aged woman who had once had a home of her
own, but who was now so contentedly and worthily serving others. What
life of her own had she? She had paid no visit since she had entered
Lucy’s service; she had had no visitor. Yes, Lucy remembered she had
had one—a middle-aged woman, who had called on her when she had been
in her situation for a month. She had volunteered to say that this
person was the wife of her cousin, the plumber at Willesden. Lucy
had asked whether she had offered her a cup of tea. No, Mrs. Morison
said; her cousin would not expect that; and Lucy had rejoined that she
hoped she would show this little hospitality on future occasions. Lucy
remembered now that Mrs. Morison had not seemed brightened by this
visit, nay, that for a day or two afterwards she had even seemed a
little depressed. It occurred to Lucy that perhaps this cousin had come
possibly seeking a little loan, or perhaps pressing for the repayment
of some trifling debt. Lucy knew that one or two of Pollie’s relatives
had not been inclined to spare her hard earnings, and that Charlie and
she had intervened to protect the girl from the weak soft-heartedness
which can be so easily wrought upon by the loafing or the greedy.
What Christmas in any real sense would there be for this woman in the
kitchen, whose presence there yet made a social Christmas possible for
the rest of the household? If she had any old friends they must be
in the North, beyond the reach of anything but the struggling, slow
letters of the uneducated. Lucy wondered whether there was anybody
to whom Mrs. Morison would like to send some “gift from London in
kind remembrance.” She had taken quite a pathetic interest in certain
trifling gifts which Lucy had despatched that afternoon.
“Eh, it’s bonnie!” she had said, adding with a little sigh, “It’s a
gran’ thing to gie pleasure to folk.”
Lucy had got a nice cambric handkerchief with an “M” in the corner,
tied up with a piece of red ribbon, which was to be Mrs. Morison’s own
Christmas-box. It was all that it was reasonable to give to a servant
who had been only two months in the house, to say nothing of the fact
that Lucy was anxious to spend little this year, and had sent no
Christmas gift save what was taken out of her own stores or of her own
manufacture.
But Lucy wondered whether she could not do something more.
A bright idea seized her. Mrs. Morison’s next month’s wage would not
fall due till just after the New Year. Why shouldn’t Lucy advance it
to her now? That would not impoverish Lucy, who had the money in her
purse, and yet it might be a real neighbourly kindness.
She laid down her pen, sprang up and hurried to the kitchen, which was
pervaded by festive smells of spice and stuffing herbs.
“Mrs. Morison,” she said, “as your month’s wages are due just after the
New Year, I should like to advance them to you now. Most of us spend
a little extra at this season, and as you haven’t been earning money
for some time, you may not have much cash ready at hand. For one does
not care to disturb one’s little investments to buy Christmas cards or
comforters.”
She laid on the table a sovereign and a little silver.
“Oh, ma’am,” cried Mrs. Morison, “you’re far ow’re kind! You shouldn’t
ha’ thought o’ sic a thing. ’Deed, there is a thing or two one would
like to do, though there’s no many carin’ for me now. An’ you gave me
my last month’s money down on the vera day, an’ it came in handy when
my cousin’s wife called. I was glad to have a bit to help her with,
poor body, for they’d been kind to me, and they’ve got a cripple child,
and some of their customers are slow in paying bills. There’s a mighty
differ between people, as I’ve often heard my poor husband say.”
Lucy went back to her letter as light-hearted and elate as we always
feel after doing a trifling kindness. She confided it all to her letter
to Charlie—told him why she had interrupted her writing, and how
very pleased Mrs. Morison had been, and how nicely she always spoke
about “the master.” She added that she should finish her letter on the
evening of Christmas Day after the visitors had gone, when she could
tell him how everything had passed off. “So it will seem almost as if
we had had Christmas together after all.” She had just written this
when Mrs. Morison came into the parlour, saying,
“Please, ma’am, you won’t mind if I go out for a little? I sha’n’t be
gone more than half-an-hour. It won’t ill-convenience you?”
“Certainly not,” Lucy answered cordially. “She is off to buy
something,” she thought to herself, and added aloud, “I’m afraid you
are rather late for most of the shops.”
“Some of them keep open late on Christmas Eve,” said Mrs. Morison;
“not the shops you’ll know, m’m, but quiet little places where working
people go.”
Mrs. Morison came back in about a quarter of an hour. She had a parcel
under her shawl, and in her hand was a little bright-coloured ball.
“If you please, m’m,” she said, “I’ll make bold to drop that into the
stocking that I see you’ve hung outside Master Hugh’s door. And I’m
sure I’m sending my good Christmas wishes to the master, if the winds
will carry them. And please, ma’am, if you’ll do me a favour, you won’t
trouble yourself a bit about kitchen things to-morrow, but just trust
to me. All is ready now as far as it can be till it’s fairly put on the
fire.”
Lucy gratefully promised full confidence. She had fixed her dinner-hour
carefully—two hours earlier than she had ever had Christmas dinner. It
was to come off at four o’clock, because it would not be nice for dear
old Miss Latimer to have to return home late, now there was no Charlie
to escort her. It would not have been kind to fix it sooner than four,
since Wilfrid Somerset so much disliked being abroad before dusk.
Next morning, after the Christmas cards had been admired and arranged
gaily on the mantelshelf—after the Christmas stocking had been emptied
of all its contents and Hugh had made a right guess as to the giver of
the pretty ball—Lucy and Hugh went to morning service. Of course, the
familiar hymns, even the fresh smell of the “holly, bay and mistletoe”
of which the church was full, all had a pathos for her, as indeed they
do for everybody except such as little Hugh, to whose short experience
it seems that all Christmas Days will be as this one or even more
abundant. Yet Lucy reflected that, looking forward, she could never
have foreseen herself so full of cheer and patience and hope.
Kneeling in her pew, thinking of all the happy festivals of her married
life, her mind went back to those earlier days when she and Florence
had looked over one book while they warbled—
“Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the new-born King,
Peace on earth and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled.”
Then—as always happens with all healthy, right-minded people, when
their nerves are emerging, quiet, after a storm, and their hearts are
full of thankfulness for blessings already realised, and for hopes
brightening before them—Lucy began to wonder whether she had not
been a little severe and unjust to Florence—whether she might not
have blamed her for jars due rather to Lucy’s own morbidly irritable
condition. She was glad she was to spend Christmas Day in her own
house—glad that Miss Latimer and Mr. Somerset and the country boy were
to be her guests—but possibly it did seem hard to Florence that she
had been set aside. That last speech of hers about being now free to
invite other guests might perhaps have been wrung from her by a jar
inflicted by Lucy herself. Lucy felt that she would be the happier at
her own little festival, if she could feel quite sure that all was
right between Florence and herself, and that she had made due amends
for aught she had done amiss.
She and Hugh were to have a slight lunch when they returned from
church. She resolved that they would hurry over this, and then go to
the Brands’ house, just to wish them “A Merry Christmas!” They could be
back in the little house with the verandah before Miss Latimer and Mr.
Somerset could arrive.
They had to knock twice before Mrs. Morison let them in.
“She’s so busy with her cooking, ma,” Hugh explained sagaciously.
And indeed when she did come, her face was very red, and she was so
pre-occupied that, as Hugh lingered a moment to knock snow from his
boot, she actually hurried back to her kitchen and left them to close
the door themselves.
“Don’t roast yourself as well as the chickens, Mrs. Morison!” Lucy
called after her playfully.
Their nice little cold meal was awaiting them on a side table in the
dining-room, the dining-table itself being already occupied by the best
napery, crystal and cutlery, set out by Lucy before she went to church.
Hugh was all eagerness to see his little cousins and their Christmas
cards and gifts—they were sure to have so many, and such beauties!
After all, the call, though satisfactory in one sense, proved less so
in another. It convinced Lucy that her sister had not been hurt or
offended; it also convinced her that the whole matter had been of such
slight interest to Florence that she had forgotten all about it!
Jem Brand did not seem even to know that Lucy had been invited to be
his guest! Said he—
“You ought to have been invited, and anyhow, wouldn’t you stay on now?
There are a good many people coming, but there would be room for you,
never fear.”
Even when he heard she was to have guests of her own, he actually
suggested that he should send round a cab and bring them all over!
It seemed to Lucy that Florence spoke rather sharply to Jem, saying
significantly, that he had better not go into the dining-room again
till dinner was served. She supposed Florence was tired and cumbered.
Florence had sent out a hundred and fifty Christmas cards—“Private
cards, of course!”—one conventional salutation alike to oldest friend
and newest acquaintance, to the wise and to the simple, the merry and
the sad. And Florence had received already two hundred cards, and
nearly one hundred were from people whom she had overlooked, and whom
she would have to “remember” at New Year. Also, the cutler had not sent
home her new fruit knives with the agate handles, and she would have to
use her old ones. It was enough to provoke a saint!
The two little Brand girls were whining and fuming.
“Muriel is out of sorts,” said the lady nurse, “because she has been
allowed to breakfast with her mamma and has eaten too much cake, and
Sybil is out of temper because her papa has given Muriel a mechanical
walking doll, and she does not think her own gift of toy drawing-room
furniture so good.” She would have stamped on it had not the lady nurse
taken it away.
“I must soothe them up somehow to make a pretty appearance downstairs
after dinner,” she said. “And a nice to-do I shall have up here when
they come back again.”
Well, at any rate, the comfort was that Florence kissed Lucy almost
effusively.
“It was so sweet of you to come!” she said. She might be sharp with Jem
and vexed about her children, but it was evidently all right between
her and Lucy. “How well-behaved your Hugh is!” she said, and clung on
to her sister, pouring out the story of all the frictions working in
her own kitchen.
Lucy hinted gently that she must be at home in time for her visitors;
but she remembered the mission which had brought her, and shrank from
seeming unsympathetic. At last it was so late that she had to say
definitely that she must go at once, or she would not be back in her
own house at four o’clock.
“Dear me”—Florence looked at her watch—“you really must go! It’s
well you don’t have much dressing for dinner to do, or you’d be late
already. It has been such a comfort to have a reasonable creature to
speak to. And you’ll take a cab, my dear, or I’ll never forgive myself
for having kept you. You are to take a cab, mind!”
Lucy smiled and hurried away. A cab? No! A woman who knows what it is
to earn shillings cannot willingly afford to spend them because another
woman’s whim delays her. Lucy, too, looked at her watch. There would be
just time for her to reach home ere her guests arrived.
When they got into the quieter streets she shortened the journey by
running little races with Hugh. Nevertheless, just as they came in
sight of the house with the verandah, they saw Mr. Somerset’s cab drive
up.
They all went in together. Of course, Mrs. Morison opened the door. She
had on a fresh white apron as if she were ready to serve up dinner. Mr.
Somerset had a big parcel to get out of his cab, and that made a little
delay, during which Mrs. Morison hurried off again downstairs.
Lucy was comforted to find that Miss Latimer had not arrived yet, nor
the lad Tom Black. Mr. Somerset was such an old and familiar friend
that she could easily leave him to the chattering ministrations of
little Hugh, while she hurried to her own room to take off her walking
garb and add a few touches of lacy brightness to her apparel.
While she was thus employed, she heard Hugh give a shout of joy and
go leaping downstairs. From the drawing-room window, he had seen Miss
Latimer approach. Lucy heard him and the old governess exchanging
rapturous greetings. She went out and met Miss Latimer, and led her to
her own room, where the old lady had some little titivations to make,
and a few private inquiries to get answered, so that they lingered
there until another knock announced Tom Black, and they went downstairs
to receive him.
They found the youth standing awkwardly alone on the landing outside
the drawing-room door. He had only just reached that spot, led thereto
by the sound of Hugh’s shrill pipe and Mr. Somerset’s deeper tones. He
was vastly relieved to see Lucy, and to be made welcome by her. Lucy
herself made the inward reflection that Mrs. Morison was either less
trained in receiving guests than in other departments of service, or
that she felt her devotion to the Christmas dinner must justify any
lapse in minor attentions.
They went into the drawing-room. Tom Black was introduced all round,
and a little conversation was got up about the weather, about Hugh’s
gifts, and about Mr. Challoner, and how he was possibly keeping his
Christmas day.
By this time it was fully half-past four. Lucy did not feel at all
nervous on that score. If her husband had been at home to remain with
her guests, she would certainly have stepped out of the room and taken
a housewifely survey. But she did not care to leave her visitors quite
to themselves, since she had the just idea that hospitality loses its
sweetest grace if it seems burdensome to the hosts. It was natural,
too, that dinner should be a little deferred. Mrs. Morison had probably
thoughtfully retarded matters when her mistress’s return had been so
late.
Lucy had not even begun to feel anxious—when there came a sudden heavy
fall and a smash!
(_To be continued._)
[Illustration: ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS]
MEDICAL.
UNFORTUNATE ONE.—Tainted breath may be due to a great host of
conditions, and as it is a common affection, and is often exceedingly
distressing, we will devote a little time to its consideration. The
breath may be tainted from the mouth—bad teeth, deposits of tartar
round the teeth, spongy gums, sores in the mouth, such as the little
white ulcers so commonly due to dyspepsia, sores on the tongue or lips,
etc. Enlarged tonsils are an exceedingly common cause of foul breath.
Some forms of chronic catarrh of the nose and throat are also connected
with bad breath. Then again, the breath may acquire a bad smell from
disease of the lungs. The stomach also may cause the breath to smell
bad; as a symptom of indigestion, bad breath is not uncommon. Lastly,
poisons circulating in the blood will taint the breath. A mild form of
this taint of the breath due to substances circulating in the blood
is the unpleasant smell of persons who have eaten onions or garlic.
The treatment for this symptom varies with the cause. Bad teeth should
be stopped or removed. Tartar should be removed by scaling the teeth.
Spongy gums, etc., should be treated with appropriate measures. Tonsils
which render the breath fetid should be removed, for they are dangerous
centres from which serious diseases may start. For the bad breath
arising from troubles in the mouth or throat, a mouthwash of boracic
acid and lavender water, or dilute carbolic acid, or of permanganate
of potash is very useful. Orris root, eucalyptus lozenges, etc., are
also very valuable. When the smell is derived from the nose, local
measures are alone of any service. For other forms of tainted breath,
musk, benzoin, and orris root are of value. It is often said that these
aromatics should not be used for the purpose, because they only mask
the smell and do nothing to remove the cause of the evil. Quite so! But
when the cause cannot be removed, we must treat the symptom. For the
bad breath due to stomach trouble, attention to the digestion and an
aperient will be required. The other conditions and troubles causing
bad breath cannot here be dealt with.
CURIOSITY.—1. Apollinaris, Rosbach, and Johannis waters are for
table purposes, and possess no special medicinal action. Hunyadi,
Janos, and Apenta waters are both saline aperients. Both these latter
springs are in Hungary. Apenta is the more serviceable of the two.—2.
Aix-la-Chapelle supplies two mineral waters; that commonly called
Aix-la-Chapelle water is from a sulphurous spring. The other water is
Kaiser Brunnun, an ordinary gaseous table water.
GLASGOW.—We will give you our opinion; but, mind you, as in all
cases of this kind, we will not take the sole responsibility, and you
must get the opinion of another medical man upon the matter before
deciding for good. The family history of the man you intend to marry
is bad. His mother and his brother died of consumption. Your questions
are these:—Has the man got consumption? will he get consumption? If
he marries, will his wife get consumption, or will his children get
consumption? As regards the first question—you say he expectorates a
good deal, he has a “catching in the throat,” he is very tall and very
pale. He _may_ have the disease. We cannot go further than this without
examining his chest. The answer to the second question must be equally
indefinite. For the third question—his wife will not get consumption
from him unless he himself develops the disease. His children, however,
may develop the disease without their father being personally attacked.
Of course, all may go well, and neither the man, nor his wife, nor his
children may ever develop consumption; but with the history that you
give us, we fear that such a happy result is very doubtful. If the man
has got the disease at present, marriage is out of the question.
PUZZLED READER.—You should eat well, keep warm, and take plenty
of exercise. How to do these is the question. A mixed diet should
always be taken. If your digestion is good, oatmeal and other coarse
farinaceous food will help to keep you warm. If your digestion is
faulty, bread and milk is better. Fat does help to keep you warm,
and fat foods in moderation are by no means indigestible. Indeed,
fat bacon is one of the most digestible of meats. Dress in warm but
loose clothes. Your boots especially should be loose, but perfectly
watertight and well lined. Wear warm loose woollen underclothing. Avoid
any constrictions anywhere, such as tight garters, corsets, or collars.
Take as much exercise as you can manage.
MISCELLANEOUS.
S. C. A.—There is a shilling manual on common British ferns to be
obtained quite easily.
LILY.—To make a rice cake, take six eggs, and their weight (in the
shell) in sugar, and the same in butter; half their weight in rice
flour, and half of wheat flour; whisk the eggs, throw in the rice after
the flour, and add the butter in the usual way. Flavour according to
preference, and bake for an hour and ten minutes. The ingredients
should be severally added during the whisking. To prepare “pressed
beef,” procure a piece of the brisket, remove the bones, and put it
in salt (in the usual way), adding a little extra _sal prunella_ to
the brine and some spice, leaving it in pickle for rather more than a
week. Roll and tie up in a cloth, and simmer gently in plenty of water
for about seven hours (if the thin end, four hours); then remove the
string, tie cloth at each end, put the beef between two plates, and
press under a hundredweight, and leave till quite cold; then remove the
cloth, trim and glaze, and garnish with parsley.
DAFFODIL.—You would have no difficulty in obtaining a good
riding-habit in your own city, where there must be plenty of good
tailors. It would be impossible for us to give an estimate for one,
and we can only say that they may be of any price from £4 4s. to £10
10s. You had better get a Directory, look out for tailors and ladies’
tailors, and go and inquire personally.
M. M.—The “V.R.” on the upper corners made _all_ the difference, and
marked the first issue of the penny stamps in 1840. The stamp you send
us was issued in 1864, and is of no value at all except as a specimen
of the date, if you were collecting stamps of every known issue.
PALE FACE.—Red would of course suit you, as well as all shades of it.
Yellow sometimes suits pale faces very well, and so does grey relieved
with pink. Violet and blue will make you look paler.
E. F. BOULTBEE.—We have pleasure in announcing your change of address,
and congratulate you on your success in the oral system of teaching
deaf mutes, and the remedy of defective speech. Address, Miss Boultbee,
Members’ Mansions, Victoria Street, S.W.
MAHDI.—We thank you sincerely for so kind a letter respecting our
magazine. Your writing is excellent. Peel a banana from the end
downwards to the stem, and then use a knife and fork; or if at home, in
private, you can dispense with them.
P. F. M.—We do not know whom you mean by “supers,” for one of whom you
want a home. If some person that has been employed on the stage—one
class being known as “supers”—there is a charitable society called the
Church and Stage Guild, of which the Hon. Secretary is the Rev. Stewart
Headlam, Duke Street, Adelphi, W.C., which looks after these people,
and perhaps he might give you some information on the subject.
LIGHT WANTED.—There is not the slightest reason why the event should
not take place; indeed there is every reason why it should, provided
that both desire it.
CLARE VERNEY.—You might obtain the information you require by
reference to Agnes Strickland’s _Queens of England_, or other history
of hers.
MISS MASON requests that our readers should be reminded of her
Holiday Home for teachers, clerks, and young persons in business, at
Sevenoaks—“Bessel’s House,” Bessel’s Green, Kent. Reduced fares are
asked from Charing Cross, London Bridge, Cannon Street, and Victoria.
Return tickets for a month, 2s. 8d.—twenty miles from town by S. E. R.
Charge for board, etc., from 12s. to 15s. a week. A stamped envelope
should be enclosed, and the age and occupation of the applicant stated.
PERPLEXED.—The law on the question of changing or adding Christian
names is as follows: “A child’s _baptismal name_, if changed, or not
previously given, may be _inserted in the Register_ within twelve
months after the registration of birth.” You appear to be a member of
the Church of England, and as such, how came you to remain unbaptised
and excluded from Holy Communion until you were seventeen? “One year’s
delay is allowed by the law for altering or adding to your name,” as
entered on the Register of Birth, so as to accord with your “baptismal
name.” As it is, your assumed second name is not yours by legal right.
CUMBERLAND LASSIE.—The high glaze employed by washerwomen for linen is
produced by mixing some wax or fat with the starch. This is a difficult
undertaking, even when hot. But starch-glazes may be purchased ready
for use, which may be employed safely, and are sold at any good
oil-shop. Some people, who wash articles at home, simply stir the
starch while hot with a wax candle. The following is a good recipe for
a glaze: Take 100 parts of wheat starch, 0.75 of stearinic acid, melt
the latter with about ten times its weight of the former. Let it cool,
powder, and mix thoroughly with the rest of the starch. This will be
suitable for shirt-fronts and collars; but for table-linen add a little
unprepared starch.
LITTLE HOUSEWIFE.—To clean japanned trays you should never use hot
water; tepid water used with a soft cloth will remove any grease spot,
and a little flour sprinkled on a smear will restore the polish. The
varnish on candlesticks is often cracked by placing them before the
fire to melt the grease, or by the use of hot water.
A. A. and D. C.—We often see clergymen, who are graduates of different
universities, wearing the hoods of their several universities when
doing duty in the same church and at the same time. Wherever they
pursue their vocation, they have a right to wear their academic
distinctions, and none other.
ANXIOUS INQUIRER.—Your _fiancé_ should leave his own card. It is not
for you to do so for him. Leave your mother’s, should she permit it,
and your own, or her card with your name on it would be more correct.
SAMOA.—Table-napkin rings are only used in private at home, or at
a boarding house, economy in the matter of washing being an object.
But in the houses of the wealthy, a fresh napkin is provided daily,
and thus a distinguishing ring is needless. With reference to the
discoloured coral, try a weak solution of borax, tepid. Should this
fail, take it to a jeweller.
C. L.—There are only two ways of sending any parcel to India—by post,
or by private hand. The acorns should be put into a little box. Your
handwriting promises well, but is as yet unformed.
A CONSTANT READER has only to order a book on the subject from any
librarian, and he will procure it for her.
GENEVIEVE (Alderney).—You have only to write to the Manager of our
Publishing Department for the cover, with index of the year you
require, and ask him to inclose the bill, including postage, and any
bookbinder will bind your volume for you.