"Well," said Letitia quite amiably, "I suppose that her sensations, if she doesn't know what cooking means, must be uncomfortable. She must feel, or should feel, that she is obtaining money under false pretenses. If she can cook, she is probably pleased at the notion of earning her own living."
"Ah, you are hard, hard!" groaned Perfoozle, wringing her glacé kids. "You are relentless. I am sorry I told you the story of Sybil Montmorency. But do not believe"—her commercial instinct apparently sat up and snorted—"that all my girls are similar. This case was unique, though I trust that in the years to come it will be quite ordinary, and everyday. What I am particularly anxious to tell you, for you are bound to be impressed by the fact, is that the authority of Pope Pius IX is exquisitely permeated through our scheme."
"Hasn't the Pope a cook?" I asked, wondering how he would like Mrs. Potzenheimer as an ornament to the Vatican—or gentle Gerda Lyberg.
"Ah, I beseech you, Mr. Fairfax!" cried Priscilla, her lips flapping. "The Pope has laid down certain rules to govern the Christian democracy. Thanks to a Paulist Father—who has one of our girls at thirty-two dollars a month (and she has already been there four days!)—I have been able to see those rules. The Holy Father says that it is an obligation for the rich and for those that own property, to succor the poor and the indigent, according to the precepts of the Gospel. They must not injure their savings by violence or fraud, nor expose them to corruption or danger of scandal, nor alienate them from the spirit of family life, nor impose on them labor beyond their strength or unsuitable to their age or sex—"
"Pardon me," I interrupted, "but what do you suppose the Pope would say if he found his cook taking a bath in the kitchen, among the dinner things?"
"You shock me!" cried Miss Perfoozle, with a little shriek. "You shock me, but—again I say—I do not mind. We missionaries must expect it. The Pope, dear brother Fairfax, would, I trust, never enter his kitchen. Therefore he could not perceive the eccentric case you suggest. If perchance, he did perceive it, he would say that cleanliness was next to godliness and godliness superior to dinner things. In addition to the Pope's words, which I learned by heart, I have the utterances of a famous diocesan director of charitable institutions. I have not memorized them, as, famous though the director be, he is not the Pope. I will read you what he says."
She drew from her pocket a soiled tract, and read:
"'Anything that will tend to do away with the friction that is to be found so often to-day between the employer and the employed, is to be commended and assisted.' It is short, but pithy. Note that he says, 'anything'. You will also have observed that the word servant is never used."
"Do you remember a certain quotation from Bacon, Miss Perfoozle?" I queried, "that which says: 'Men in great place are thrice servants—servants of the sovereign, or state—servants of fame, and servants of business.' Must we alter all this? If so, we should also re-edit the Bible. Can your cooks bear to read the Bible? Can they condescend to consider themselves as servants, even of the Almighty?"
Miss Perfoozle looked frightened. She blanched—if such an expression can be used in connection with her yellow face. However, she rose to the occasion.