“I’ll be bound I should!”
“We have very short memories in London,” said Hatty, laughing.
“Seems so! But why should not folks remember? I am fairly dumfoozled with it all. How any mortal woman can get along with four men and seven maids to look after, passes me. I find Maria and Bessy and Sam enough, I can tell you: too many sometimes. Mrs Desborough must be up early and down late; or does Mrs Charles see to things?”
I began to laugh. The idea of Grandmamma “seeing to” anything, except fancy work and whist, was so extreme diverting.
“Why, Aunt Kezia, nobody ever sees to anything here,” said Hatty.
“And do things get done?” asked my Aunt Kezia with uplifted eyebrows.
“Sometimes,” said Hatty, again laughing. “They don’t do much dusting, I fancy. I could write my name on the dust on the tables, now and then, and generally on the windows.”
My Aunt Kezia glanced at the window, and set her lips grimly.
“If I were mistress in this house for a week,” said she, “I reckon those four men and seven maids would scarce send up a round robin begging me to stop another!”
“Lucette does her work thoroughly,” said I, “and so does Cicely, the under chambermaid; and Caesar, the black boy, is an honest lad. I am afraid I cannot say much for the rest. But really, Aunt, it seemed to me when I came that people hadn’t a notion what work was in the South.”