“If God didn’t make ’em for the home, mister, where on earth would you put ’em?”
The wintry color came out again on the old man’s cheeks. “If madam would call me Steptoe,” he said ceremoniously, “I think she’d find it easier. I mean,” he went on, reverting to the original theme, “that ’E didn’t make ’em to be cooks and ’ousemaids and parlormaids, and all that. That’s men’s work. Men’ll do it as easy as a bird’ll sing. I never see the woman yet as didn’t fret ’erself over it, like a wild animal’ll fret itself in a circus cage. It spiles women to put ’em to ’ousework, like it always spiles people to put ’em to jobs for which the Lord didn’t give ’em no haptitude.”
Letty was puzzled, but followed partially.
“I’ve watched ’em and watched ’em, and it’s always the syme tyle. They’ll go into service young and joyous like, but it won’t be two or three years before they’ll have growed cat-nasty like this ’ere Jyne Cykebread and Mary Ann Courage. Madam ’ud never believe what sweet young things they was when I first picked ’em out—Mrs. Courage a young widow, and Jynie as nice a girl as madam ’ud wish to see, only with the features what Mrs. Allerton used to call a little hover-haccentuated. And now—!” He allowed the conditions to speak for themselves without criticizing further.
“It’s keepin’ ’em in a ’ome what’s done it. They knows it theirselves—and yet they don’t. Inside they’ve got the sperrits of young colts that wants to kick up their ’eels in the pasture. They don’t mean no worse nor that, only when people comes to Jynie’s age 80 and Mrs. Courage’s they ’ave to kick up their ’eels in their own wye. If madam’ll remember that, and be pytient with them like–––”
Letty cried in alarm, “But it’s got nothin’ to do with me!”
“If madam’ll excuse me, it’s got everything to do with ’er. She’s the missus of this ’ouse.”
“Oh, no, I ain’t. Mr. Allerton just brung me here––”
Once more there was the delicate emphasis with which he had corrected other slips. “Mr. Allerton brought madam, and told me to see that she was put in ’er proper plyce. If madam’ll let me steer the thing, I’ll myke it as easy for ’er as easy.”
He reflected as to how to make the situation clear to her. “I’ve been readin’ about the time when our lyte Queen Victoria come to the throne as quite a young girl. She didn’t know nothin’ about politics or presidin’ at councils or nothin’. But she had a prime minister—a kind of hupper servant, you might sye—’er servant was what ’e always called ’imself—and whatever ’e told ’er to do, she done. Walked through it all, you might sye, till she got the ’ang of it, but once she did get the ’ang of it—well, there wasn’t no big-bug in the world that our most grycious sovereign lydy couldn’t put it all hover on.”