INDIGESTION WEEK.
It was quite early on the following Monday morning when a light tap was
heard outside the door of the room where Helen and Polly slept. It was a
very light, modest, and uncertain tap, and it has not the smallest
effect upon Helen, who lay in soft slumber, her pretty eyes closed, her
gentle face calm and rounded and child-like, and the softest breathing
coming from her rosy, parted lips.
Another little girl, however, was not asleep. At that modest tap up
sprang a curly head, two dark, bright eyes opened wide, two white feet
sprang quickly but noiselessly on to the floor, and Polly had opened the
bedroom door wide to admit the short, dumpy, but excited little person
of Maggie, the kitchen-maid.
"She's a-going, Miss Polly--she's a-packing her bandbox now, and
putting the strap on. She's in a hawful temper, but she'll be out of the
house in less than half an hour. There's a beautiful fire in the
kitchen, Miss, and the pan for frying bacon is polished up so as you
could 'most see yourself in it. And the egg-saucepan is there all 'andy,
and the kettle fizzing and sputtering. I took cook up her breakfast, but
she said she didn't want none of our poisonous messes, and she'd
breakfast with her cousin in the village if we'd no objection. She'll be
gone in no time now, Miss Polly, and I'm a-wanting to know when you'll
be a-coming down stairs."
"I'm going to dress immediately, Maggie," said Polly. "I've scarcely
slept all night, for this is an anxious moment for me. I'll join you in
half an hour at the latest, Maggie, and have lots of saucepans and
frying-pans and gridirons ready. Keep the fire well up too, and see that
the oven is hot. There, fly away, I'll join you soon."
Maggie, who was only sixteen herself, almost skipped down the passage.
After the iron reign of Mrs. Power, to work for Polly seemed like play
to her.
"She's a duck," she said to herself, "a real cozy duck of a young lady.
Oh, my word, won't we spin through the stores this week! Won't we just!"
Meanwhile Polly was hastily getting into her clothes. She did not wish
to wake Helen, for she was most anxious that no one should know that on
the first morning of her housekeeping she had arisen soon after six
o'clock. Her plans were all laid beforehand, and a wonderfully
methodical and well arranged programme, considering her fourteen years,
was hers; she was all agog with eagerness to carry it out.
"Oh, won't they have a breakfast this morning," she said to herself.
"Won't they open their eyes, and won't Bob and Bunny look greedy. And
Firefly--I must watch Firefly over those hot cakes, or she may make
herself sick. Poor father and Nell--they'll both be afraid at first
that I'm a little too lavish and inclined to be extravagant, but they'll
see by-and-by, and they'll acknowledge deep down in their hearts that
there never was such a housekeeper as Polly."
As the little maid dreamed these pleasant thoughts she scrambled
somewhat untidily into her clothes, gave her hair a somewhat less
careful brush than usual, and finally knelt down to say her morning
prayer. Helen still slept, and Polly by a sudden impulse chose to kneel
by Helen's bed and not her own. She pressed her curly head against the
mattress, and eagerly whispered her petitions. She was excited and
sanguine, for this was to her a moment of triumph; but as she prayed a
feeling of rest and yet of longing overpowered her.
"Oh, I am happy to-day," she murmured--"but oh, mother, oh, mother, I'd
give everything in all the wide world to have you back again! I'd live
on bread and water--I'd spend years in a garret just for you to kiss me
once again, mother, mother!"
Helen stirred in her sleep, for Polly's last impulsive words were spoken
aloud.
"Has mother come back?" she asked.
Her eyes were closed, she was dreaming. Polly bent down and answered
her.
"No," she said. "It is only me--the most foolish of all her children,
who wants her so dreadfully."
Helen sighed, and turned her head uneasily, and Polly, wiping away some
moisture from her eyes, ran out of the room.
Her housekeeping apron was on, her precious money box was under her arm,
the keys of the linen-press jingled against a thimble and a couple of
pencils in the front pocket of the apron. Polly was going down stairs to
fulfill her great mission; it was impossible for her spirits long to be
downcast. The house was deliciously still, for only the servants were up
at present, but the sun sent in some rays of brightness at the large
lobby windows, and the little girl laughed aloud in her glee.
"Good morning, sun! it is nice of you to smile at me the first morning
of my great work. It is very good-natured of you to come instead of
sending that disagreeable friend of yours, Mr. Rain. Oh, how delicious
it is to be up early. Why, it is not half-past six yet--oh, what a
breakfast I shall prepare for father!"
In the kitchen, which was a large, cheerful apartment looking out on the
vegetable garden, Polly found her satellite, Maggie, on the very tiptoe
of expectation.
"I has laid the servants' breakfast in the 'all, Miss Polly; I thought
as you shouldn't be bothered with them, with so to speak such a lot on
your hands this morning. So I has laid it there, and lit a fire for
them, and all Jane has to do when she's ready is to put the kettle on,
for the tea's on the table in the small black caddy, so there'll be no
worriting over them. And ef you please, Miss Polly, I made bold to have
a cup of tea made and ready for you, Miss--here it is, if you please,
Miss, and a cut off the brown home-made loaf."
"Delicious," said Polly; "I really am as hungry as possible, although I
did not know it until I saw this nice brown bread-and-butter. Why, you
have splendid ideas in you, Maggie; you'll make a first-rate cook yet.
But now"--here the young housekeeper thought it well to put on a severe
manner--"I must know what breakfast you have arranged for the servants'
hall. It was good-natured of you to think of saving me trouble, Maggie,
but please understand that during this week you do nothing on your own
responsibility. _I_ am the housekeeper, and although I don't say I am
old, I am quite old enough to be obeyed."
"Very well, Miss," said Maggie, who had gone to open her oven, and poke
up the fire while Polly was speaking; "it's a weight off my shoulders,
Miss, for I wasn't never one to be bothered with thinking. Mother says
as I haven't brains as would go on the top of a sixpenny-bit, so what's
to be expected of me, Miss. There, the oven's all of a beautiful glow,
and 'ull bake lovely. You was asking what breakfast I has put in the
servants' 'all--well, cold bacon and plenty of bread, and a good pat of
the cooking butter. Why, Miss Polly, oh, lor, what is the matter, Miss?"
"Only that you have done very wrong, Maggie," said Polly. "You would not
like to have lots of good things going up to the dining-room, and have
no share yourself. I call it selfish of you, Maggie, for of course you
knew you would be in the kitchen with me, and would be sure to come in
for bits. Cold bacon, indeed! Poor servants, they're not likely to care
for my housekeeping if that is all I provide for them! No, Maggie, when
I made out my programme, I thought of the servants as well as the
family. I will just refer to my tablets, Maggie, and see what breakfast
I arranged for the hall for Monday morning."
While Polly was speaking Maggie opened her eyes and mouth wider and
wider and when the young lady read aloud from her tablets she could not
suppress an expostulatory "oh!"
"Monday--kitchen breakfast," read Polly--"Bacon, eggs, marmalade,
sardines. Hot coffee, fresh rolls, if possible."
"My word, but that is wasteful," said Maggie.
Polly's cheeks flushed. She glanced at her small handmaid, raised her
hand in a reproving manner, and continued to read--
"Dining-room breakfast: Hot scones, baked muffins, eggs and bacon,
deviled kidneys, scrambled eggs, a dish of kippered herrings, marmalade,
honey, jam, tea and coffee. Oh, and chocolate for Firefly."
"My word, Miss," again exclaimed Maggie. "It's seven o'clock now, and
the Doctor likes his breakfast sharp on the table at eight. If we has to
get all this ready in an hour we had better fly round and lose no more
time. I'll see to the 'all, bless your kind 'eart, Miss Polly, but we'd
better get on with the dining-room breakfast, or there'll be nothing
ready in anything like time. Will you mix up the cakes, Miss Polly,
while I sees to the kidneys, and to the bacon and eggs, and the
scrambled eggs, and the kippers. My word, but there'll be a power more
sent up than can be eaten. But whatever goes wrong we should have the
cakes in the oven, Miss Polly."
Polly did not altogether approve of Maggie's tone, but time did press;
the kitchen clock already pointed to five minutes past seven; it was
much easier to write out a programme upstairs at one's leisure in the
pleasant morning-room than to carry it out in a hurry, in the hot
kitchen, particularly when one's own knowledge was entirely theoretical,
not practical. Yes, the kitchen was very hot, and time never seemed to
fly so fast.
"First of all, open the window, Maggie; it is wrong to have rooms so hot
as this," said the young housekeeper, putting on her most authoritative
air.
"No, Miss, that I mustn't," said Maggie, firmly. "You'd cool down the
oven in less than five minutes. Now, shall I fetch you the flour and
things from the store-room, Miss? Why, dear me, your cheeks has peonyed
up wonderful. You're new to it yet, Miss, but you'll soon take it
quiet-like. Cold bacon is a very nice breakfast for the 'all, Miss, and
cooking butter's all that servants is expected to eat of. Now shall I
fetch you the flour and the roller, and the milk, Miss Polly?"
"Yes, get them," said Polly. She felt decidedly annoyed and cross. "I
wish you would not talk so much, Maggie," she said, "go and fetch the
materials for the hot cakes."
"But I don't know yet what I'm to get, Miss. Is it a dripping cake, or
is it a cream cake, or is it a butter-and-egg cake? I'll bring you
things according, Miss Polly, if you'll be so good as to instruct me."
"Oh dear, oh dear," said Polly, "you make my head go round, when you
mention so many kinds of cake, Maggie. I really thought you knew
something of cooking. I just want _hot cakes_. I don't care what kind
they are; oh, I suppose we had better have the richest to-day. Get the
material for the butter-and-egg cake, Maggie, and do be quick."
Thus admonished, Maggie did move off with a dubious look on her face in
the direction of the store-room.
"She don't know nothing, poor dear," she said to herself; "she aims
high--she's eat up with ambition, but she don't know nothing. It's
lucky we in the 'all is to have the cold bacon. _I_ don't know how to
make a butter-and-egg hot cake--oh, my word, a fine scolding Mrs. Power
will give us when she comes back."
Here Maggie approached the store-room door. Then she uttered a loud and
piercing exclamation and flew back to Polly.
"She's gone and done us, Miss Polly," she exclaimed. "She's gone and
done us! Cook's off, and the key of the store-room in her pocket.
There's nothing for breakfast, Miss Polly--no eggs, no butter, no
marmalade, no sugar, no nothing."
Poor Polly's rosy, little face turned white.
"It can't be true," she said. And she flew down the passage to the
store-room herself. Alas! only to peep through the key-hole, for the
inhospitable door was firmly locked, and nowhere could the key be
discovered.