“Ochone! The ould boy has got into the mistress, to be sure, and all
to wanst. Here’s real round steak, and I’m ordered to broil it nice
for the breakfast, instead of frying it in hog-fat like I used to; and
there’s twice as much as we ever had before. And she has got fresh
bread in the basket! And Little Jess is cackling round like a pullet
after corn, and the mistress said I wasn’t to spake a cross word to
her. Sure, I belave the worruld is comin’ to an end. I am to put two
cups of ground coffee in the pot instead of one, and I’m not to water
the milk any more after the milk-man laves it, but take two quarts
instead of one. I do belave the ould maid is a-goin’ crazy. She looks
as if she had been a-cryin’ all night; and there’s that Jess a-settin’
the table, and a-singin’ like a little canary. I’d like to slap the
jade over; I’d make her sing like a cat with a basin of hot water on
its hide!”
Thus Biddy Lanigan heralded the sudden change in her department of Miss
Scrimp’s boarding-house. It was evident she did not like it. It gave
her a good deal more work--and hotter work; for the steak, formerly
fried till too hard to be eatable, on the range, now had to be broiled
over hot coals.
“I’ll have a raise o’ wages for this, or I’ll lave,” she uttered, as
she turned the juicy steak. For she knew how to cook it nicely when it
had to be done. She had ever kept and cooked the best in a proper way
for her mistress and herself.
At last, early as the hour was, not fairly light outdoors, the
breakfast bell rang, and the girls trooped into the breakfast room.
How Hattie enjoyed their looks of wonder, and then their cries of joy.
“Nice steak--so tender and juicy!” cried one.
“Fresh bread and butter! Dear me!” cried another.
“Oh, such coffee--with real milk in it!” almost screamed a third.
And merrily, happily, the girls went to work over those luxuries like a
bevy of singing birds in a field of grain.
Even Miss Scrimp’s face grew softer as she heard the merry music at her
board, though a sigh now and then told that this extravagance, while it
saved her from a prison cell, was eating vastly into the profits which
she had hitherto made.
Wild Kate, in the exuberance of her feelings over this change, made a
speech. She often did. But seldom did she make one so much to the point.
“Girls,” said she, “isn’t this just glorious! Over this cup of nice
coffee I feel like weeping, for having been so saucy to good Miss
Scrimp last night. Over this delicious steak I feel like promising
never to find a fault here again, without real, strong occasion for
it. Over this sweet butter and this fresh, nice bread, cut thick, I
feel like giving thanks both to Heaven, and to her who has provided
such a splendid table, and to move a vote of thanks from us all to Miss
Scrimp.”
“Thanks! Thanks!” rose from every girl’s lips at the table.
“Let us also thank Biddy Lanigan for cooking all these luxuries so
nicely!” added Hattie Butler, who saw the cook standing near the door,
in her accustomed position.
“I knew that angel-born wouldn’t forget ould Biddy. She has ever the
kind word for me!” cried the happy Lanigan.
“Thanks to Biddy Lanigan, and Little Jess, too,” shouted Wild Kate, and
the cry echoed from one end of the room to the other.
But the girls had not long to tarry over this new and joyous scene.
They all had to reach their workshops on time, or be cut short
in wages, and soon they were all speeding away to their various
destinations.
And Jessie sat down for the first time in many a long, sad day to a
full, substantial meal, with time enough allowed her to eat it. And
when it was time to clear up the table and wash the dishes, she went to
her work with a song on her lips and gladness in her heart. Hitherto
sighs and tears had accompanied her labors.
When Miss Scrimp sat down to her breakfast, which was no better than
the boarders had just enjoyed, Biddy was the first to speak.
“Worra! but wasn’t I mad with the stame and the hate when I was
a-cookin’ the breakfast sure. But when I saw how good the girl
craythurs felt, and how thankful they were, sure the mad all went off,
and I felt like I do when the praste hears me at confession and says
it’s all right. ‘Biddy, go along wid ye, say all your prayers, and be a
good woman.’”
“It costs awful,” was all Miss Scrimp said, but there was a whole
volume of misery in the sigh which followed her words.
“I’ll keep it up if I can,” she continued. “If I can’t, why I can’t.”
“What sot ye to doin’ it?” asked Biddy.
The question confused Miss Scrimp. Not for any consideration would
she have Biddy know the truth. It would have ruined her in Biddy’s
estimation if the latter had known she had succumbed to the demands of
the cheapest boarder in the house.
“I thought I’d just try a change,” she said. “I’d got so sick of
hearin’ the girls grumble and growl, I thought I’d see what real good
feedin’ would do with them.”
At that instant Miss Scrimp caught a glimpse of Jessie Albemarle’s
face. The girl hardly dared to, but she seemed to want to laugh right
out; and from that instant Miss Scrimp knew that Jessie Albemarle knew
why and how the change had come.
And the moment she could get the little girl alone after breakfast, she
said to her, in a kinder tone than she had ever used to her before:
“Jessie, my dear, if you will keep a close mouth about all you know
you’ll never be sorry for it. I’ll have a nice cot-bed put up in your
room, and you shall have two new calico frocks, and a good, soft pair
of shoes.”
“Thank you, Miss Scrimp. Miss Hattie told me not to say anything as
long as I was treated well, and you may be sure I’ll mind her. She is
the best friend I ever had.”
Miss Scrimp would really have liked to tear the poor girl limb from
limb, but she dared not even be cross with her, so, with what she meant
for a smile, she told her to go and do her work, and take her time
about it.