In a few moments it all began again. Grandmother would have a journey, and then I. By the time our peaceful breakfast was over Aunt Jael had usually tired of her fun and was prepared to give in: another lengthy process. The first great step was when she got as far as leaving the door open. Usually if Grandmother or Mrs. Cheese took in her breakfast-tray she refused to have it near her and declared that the Child alone should bring her breakfast to her, the reason being that it was time for school and that I, therefore, was the most inconvenient person she could select. So they left the tray on the brass-nailed box outside her door, and I went in with it. Meanwhile she would close her eyes and moan: "I'm a-sinkin', I'm a-sinkin' for the want of food! A poor lonely woman left to starve! A-sinkin', a-sinkin', a-sinkin'—" her voice sank to a tragic whisper. Next, of course, the egg was too soft or too hard boiled, according as we had been pessimists or optimists in gauging the duration of my lady's mood that morning.
Dressing her was the next trial. I escaped it except in the holidays. Grandmother had to see to every button and lace and hook, and be railed at the whole time. And so on, throughout the day, morning, afternoon, evening, week in, week out, till life was a misery. My nerves were on edge, and if I kept my temper it was at the expense of my soul, which was filled with a devouring hate. There was one person, however, whose temper would not and did not hold out, and that was Mrs. Cheese. On that last day when my Great-Aunt sat up in bed and threw the whole breakfast-tray at her—a notable feat—she picked up the metal tea-pot, the only whole article in the wreckage, poured hot tea on the aggressor's face, and within a few hours had left the house. "I've warmed the ole biddy's nose, and this time I goes for iver."
* * * * * * *
Then, somewhere in the summer of 1864, came Maud. She brought no references, this being her first place, nor in our dire need could we insist on the usual requirements as to grace and salvation. She was not more than seventeen or eighteen, hardly a year or so older than I was; though with her hair up and her smart womanly attractive appearance she looked several years my senior. I had gathered from the Bible and from the talk at school that our sex was considered the more attractive, the better-looking, the more sought-after for its pleasingness. Neither the many female Saints of my acquaintance nor any member of our humble gallery of housemaids had helped me to understand. Maud was an explanation of much. Looking at her head of fine chestnut hair, gay pretty mouth and sparkling eyes, I began to apprehend why so many worthy folk—King David, King Solomon, Adam our first forefather—had gone astray. Her capacity for hard work equalled her good looks; her patience, good temper and self-sacrifice with Aunt Jael excelled them both. Here was the first servant we had ever taken without certificate of godliness; and she was the best.
From the beginning she devoted herself to Aunt Jael, who of course shouted at her, and told her she was a bold mincing hussy. She smiled. She just went on cooking, dusting, laying the tea table, hooking the blouse, or whatever it might be, always with the same patient smile. After a while her absolute imperviousness to abuse and her excellence as a lady's maid began to mollify my Great-Aunt, who came to treat her quite passably to her face, and sing loud her praises as soon as she left the room.
"There's a good girl, if you like, something like a girl. Do something for her, Hannah! Give her five pounds and a new suit of clothes."
This last remark became a mania, and half a dozen times a day as the door closed upon Maud, Aunt Jael would shout at my Grandmother, "Five pounds, I say, five pounds, and a new suit of clothes!" Neither did she produce, however.
To my surprise Grandmother did not care very much for our new servant.
"Isn't she good, Grandmother?" I asked one day.
She nodded her head and did not reply.