“Well,” said Rosalie, “how long am I to keep the keys, or when am I to deliver them up to Madame l’épouse?”
“Ah! I don’t know. How should I? You must settle that between you. In a few days, I suppose. Ask your pretty little mamma; she is likely to know such points of domestic etiquette. Madam does not look very much like the material of which Virginia housewives are composed, I must say. I fear, little girl, that you will still have to carry the keys.”
“Now, you know, uncle, if I am to have all the duties of housekeeper, without the dignities of mistress, I intend to demand a salary for my services. Do you hear?”
“And you shall have it, my dear—ten kisses a day. Will that suit you?”
Rosalie laughed and left him.
It was yet early in the morning, and she went to “see after” breakfast. Her first visit was to her diary, to have the new milk strained, and the old milk skimmed, and the cream and butter iced and brought out for breakfast. Then she sent two little negro girls into the garden, to gather raspberries—a necessary luxury in its season on a country breakfast table. Then she went into the cellar, to select the fresh fish and game and oysters that had been kept in ice. Then went to the pantry, to give out coffee, tea, chocolate, sugar, &c. Then to the plate and china closet, to “parade” the best Sevres breakfast service and the family plate, in honour of the occasion. Her next visit was to the breakfast room, to see that the table was well arranged. “I wonder, after all, if India will like to spend two hours of the early morning in this manner, instead of lounging them away over her own elegant toilet,” said Rosalie to herself, as she passed into the room. Finding all in order here, the busy little housewife passed next into that pleasant room near the kitchen and the pantry, and fronting upon the garden, and devoted to the picking of vegetables and fruit, and such little half-horticultural, half-culinary pursuits. Here she found her two little black handmaids, with their baskets of raspberries, waiting for her. She praised their diligence and took the raspberries, and was engaged in putting them in cut-glass dishes, and powdering them with sugar, when she felt a light hand laid upon her shoulder, and, glancing around, she saw Mark Sutherland standing behind her, smiling upon her. A sudden bright blush suffused her beautiful countenance; but she exclaimed, saucily—
“Not even the grace of Paul Pry, to say, ‘I hope I don’t intrude.’”
“You know you gave me the freedom of this room long ago, little housekeeper.”
“A privilege which men like you seem inclined to abuse,” answered Rosalie, glancing at her gingham gown, holland apron, and turned-up sleeves.
“Beautiful in that also, Rosalie. What a charming little peasant you make!”