Thaddeus was rich—that is, he had an income and a vocation; a charming little home was awaiting their coming, off in a convenient suburb; and, best of all, Bessie was an accomplished house-keeper, having studied under the best mistresses of that art to be found in the country. And even if she had not completely mastered the art of keeping house, Thaddeus was confident that all would go well with them, for their waitress was a jewel, inherited from Bessie’s mother, and the cook, though somewhat advanced in years, was beyond cavil, having been known to the family of Thaddeus for a longer period than Thaddeus himself had been. The only uncertain quantity in the household was Norah, the up-stairs girl, who was not only new, but auburn-haired and of Celtic extraction.
Under such circumstances did the young couple start in life, and many there were who looked upon them with envy. At first, of course, the household did not run as smoothly as it might have done—meals were late, and served with less ceremony than either liked; but, as Bessie said, as she and Thaddeus were finishing their breakfast one morning, “What could you expect?”
To which Thaddeus, with his customary smile, replied “What, indeed! We get along much better than I really thought we should with old Ellen.”
Old Ellen was the cook, and she had been known to Thaddeus as “Old Ellen” even before his lips were able to utter the words.
“Ellen has her ways, and Jane has hers,” said Bessie. “After Jane has got accustomed to Ellen’s way of getting breakfast ready, she will know better how to go about her own work. I think, perhaps, cook’s manner is a little harsh. She made Jane cry about the omelet this morning; but Jane is teary, anyhow.”
“It wouldn’t do to have Ellen oily and Jane watery,” Thaddeus answered. “They’d mix worse than ever then. We’re in pretty good luck as it is.”
“I think so, too, Teddy,” Bessie replied; “but Jane is so foolish. She might have known better than to send the square platter down to Ellen for an omelet, when the omelet was five times as long as it was broad.”
“You always had square omelets, though, at your house—that is, whenever I was there you had,” said Thaddeus. “And I suppose Jane’s notion is that as things happened under your mother’s régime, so they ought to happen here.”
“Possibly that was her notion,” replied Bessie; “but, then, in your family the omelets were oblong, and Ellen is too old to depart from her traditions. Old people get set in their ways, and as long as results are satisfactory, we ought not to be captious about methods.”
“No, indeed, we shouldn’t,” smiled Thaddeus; “but I don’t want you to give in to Ellen to too great an extent, my dear. This is your home, and not my mother’s, and your ways must be the ways of the house.”