Virginia said that she, too, felt a strong force—it might be her sub-conscious self, or she might have a dual personality, she couldn’t say which—within her, impelling her to turn the house inside out.
So I told them to go ahead; I’m the last one to discourage anyone from doing my work for me. I suggested, however, that for the first day they should confine their attentions to the living-rooms downstairs.
Of course, the reader of average intellect will wonder what necessity there could be for any such upheaval, seeing that the place would obviously have been overhauled before we arrived; but this brings me back to Mrs. Widow. “A worthy body and an honest soul,” the Rector said, when he originally recommended her to me, all of which was quite true; but, alas, thoroughness in regard to house-cleaning is not her strong point.
When I first sought her out and broached the subject of the caretaker I was requiring, she listened in a non-committal way. I stated how much a year I was willing to pay—naming an exceptionally good sum—and explained that for this money the house must be looked after in my absence, and be got quite ready for me whenever I should come down, while anything she might do while I was “in residence” would be paid for as an extra.
She showed no indecorous haste to secure the appointment. She merely said she would talk it over with her married daughter, and if she thought any more of it she would let me know. A few hours later she came to me, and said casually that on second thoughts she didn’t mind obliging me. (No one ever “works” for you in our village, they merely “oblige.”) In the interval, however, the whole village had gone into committee on the subject, and everyone’s advice had been sought, and very freely given.
Once more I went through the terms of the agreement, and she said she quite understood. Nevertheless, subsequent events led me to believe that she regarded the annual wage in the light of a retaining fee only, since most of the work is always left to be done after I arrive, when it will have to be paid for as a separate transaction if it is more than Abigail can wrestle with.
At the same time I can truly endorse the Rector’s tribute to her honesty. If I were to strew the floor with sovereigns or diamond rings, I know I should find them on the mantelpiece when next I returned, and she never annexes anything permanently.
But the fact that one has a village-wide reputation for honesty need not detract from one’s worldly prosperity—so long as one can borrow with light-hearted frequency, and borrow for indefinite periods, too! Mrs. Widow has reduced borrowing to a fine art, but her honesty is demonstrated by the fact that I have never known her decline to return any of my possessions; indeed, so scrupulous is she that she will bring back the tin of metal polish, when it is empty, explaining that she was quite sure I wanted it to be used rather than wasted!
Abigail invariably spends the first couple of days at the cottage in skirmishing and reclaiming missing articles. Knowing all this, I was not surprised when I heard the frying-pan was minus; I also knew that time would reveal other vacancies.
Had it been July or August, the preserving-pan—a family treasure—would have been gone, too. Mrs. Widow is always very solicitous for its welfare about fruit-gathering time; she says damp would easily hurt a really good preserving-pan, so she takes it home with her to keep it dry. Yet the poor thing will be left to face the winter in my kitchen with never a thought bestowed on its delicate constitution.