I wish it were possible for me to describe in detail our first days at Bancroft's. If it were not for the fact that so many really important events and happenings remain to be described—if it were not that the most momentous event of my life, the event that was the beginning of the great change in that life—if that event were not so close at hand, I should be tempted to linger upon those first few days. They were strange and wonderful and funny to Hephzibah and me. The strangeness and the wonder wore off gradually; the fun still sticks in my memory.
To have one's bedroom invaded at an early hour by a chambermaid who, apparently quite oblivious of the fact that the bed was still occupied by a male, proceeded to draw the curtains, bring the hot water and fill the tin tub for my bath, was astonishing and funny enough, Hephzibah's comments on the proceeding were funnier still.
“Do you mean to tell me,” she demanded, “that that hussy was brazen enough to march right in here before you got up?”
“Yes,” I said. “I am only thankful that I HADN'T got up.”
“Well! I must say! Did she fetch the water in a garden waterin'-pot, same as she did to me?”
“Just the same.”
“And did she pour it into that—that flat dishpan on the floor and tell you your 'bawth' was ready?”
“She did.”
“Humph! Of all the—I hope she cleared out THEN?”
“She did.”