But, poor souls, they are terribly handicapped!
In the first place, they are mostly unaccustomed to housekeeping themselves; secondly, the servants and household are quite unaccustomed to being "kept"; and thirdly, it is practically impossible for a mistress to do her own marketing unless she possess an unusual knowledge of the language.
She may resolutely keep accounts, lock up stores, walk about all morning in an apron, with a large bunch of keys, and have long confidential conversations with the cook; but in spite of all these possibilities she can only play at housekeeping; the Cook and Head Boy are the real managers of the establishment, and they regard the well meant efforts of their mistress with the kindly amusement one would extend to a child "keeping house." A Remyo lady's morning interview with her cook, usually a Madrassee, is an amusing interlude.
Neither fish nor joints can be procured in the native bazaar, so the poor housekeeper is often at her wits' end to introduce variety into her evening menu.
She begins cheerfully: "Well cook, what have we for dinner to-night?"
Cook replies laconically, "Chicken."
"Chicken," repeats the mistress doubtfully, "yes, perhaps that will do. Did you kill it yesterday?"
"No! missis, not killed yet."
"Oh cook!" in a tone of stern reproach, "missis told you always to kill it the day before, why have you not done so?"