Helen sighed, and turned her head uneasily, and Polly, wiping away some moisture from her eyes, ran out of the room.
Her housekeeping apron was on, her precious money box was under her arm, the keys of the linen-press jingled against a thimble and a couple of pencils in the front pocket of the apron. Polly was going down stairs to fulfill her great mission; it was impossible for her spirits long to be downcast. The house was deliciously still, for only the servants were up at present, but the sun sent in some rays of brightness at the large lobby windows, and the little girl laughed aloud in her glee.
“Good morning, sun! it is nice of you to smile at me the first morning of my great work. It is very good-natured of you to come instead of sending that disagreeable friend of yours, Mr. Rain. Oh, how delicious it is to be up early. Why, it is not half-past six yet—oh, what a breakfast I shall prepare for father!”
In the kitchen, which was a large, cheerful apartment looking out on the vegetable garden, Polly found her satellite, Maggie, on the very tiptoe of expectation.
“I has laid the servants’ breakfast in the ’all, Miss Polly; I thought as you shouldn’t be bothered with them, with so to speak such a lot on your hands this morning. So I has laid it there, and lit a fire for them, and all Jane has to do when she’s ready is to put the kettle on, for the tea’s on the table in the small black caddy, so there’ll be no worriting over them. And ef you please, Miss Polly, I made bold to have a cup of tea made and ready for you, Miss—here it is, if you please, Miss, and a cut off the brown home-made loaf.”
“Delicious,” said Polly; “I really am as hungry as possible, although I did not know it until I saw this nice brown bread-and-butter. Why, you have splendid ideas in you, Maggie; you’ll make a first-rate cook yet. But now”—here the young housekeeper thought it well to put on a severe manner—“I must know what breakfast you have arranged for the servants’ hall. It was good-natured of you to think of saving me trouble, Maggie, but please understand that during this week you do nothing on your own responsibility. I am the housekeeper, and although I don’t say I am old, I am quite old enough to be obeyed.”
“Very well, Miss,” said Maggie, who had gone to open her oven, and poke up the fire while Polly was speaking; “it’s a weight off my shoulders, Miss, for I wasn’t never one to be bothered with thinking. Mother says as I haven’t brains as would go on the top of a sixpenny-bit, so what’s to be expected of me, Miss. There, the oven’s all of a beautiful glow, and ’ull bake lovely. You was asking what breakfast I has put in the servants’ ’all—well, cold bacon and plenty of bread, and a good pat of the cooking butter. Why, Miss Polly, oh, lor, what is the matter, Miss?”
“Only that you have done very wrong, Maggie,” said Polly. “You would not like to have lots of good things going up to the dining-room, and have no share yourself. I call it selfish of you, Maggie, for of course you knew you would be in the kitchen with me, and would be sure to come in for bits. Cold bacon, indeed! Poor servants, they’re not likely to care for my housekeeping if that is all I provide for them! No, Maggie, when I made out my programme, I thought of the servants as well as the family. I will just refer to my tablets, Maggie, and see what breakfast I arranged for the hall for Monday morning.”
While Polly was speaking Maggie opened her eyes and mouth wider and wider and when the young lady read aloud from her tablets she could not suppress an expostulatory “oh!”
“Monday—kitchen breakfast,” read Polly—“Bacon, eggs, marmalade, sardines. Hot coffee, fresh rolls, if possible.”