Martha came back smiling.
“Please, miss, Mrs. Black’s compliments, and ‘sundries’ means that you complained that the coffee was muddy, and after that she cleared it with an egg. ‘Sundries’ means the eggs.”
“Martha,” I said, weakly, “give me those Crown salts. No, no, I forgot; those are Mrs. Black’s salts. Take them out and tell her I only smelled them once.”
“Martha,” said my sister, dragging my purse out from under my pillow, “here is sixpence not to tell Mrs. Black anything.” Then when Martha disappeared she said, “How often have I told you not to jest with servants?”
“I forgot,” I said, humbly. “But Martha has a sense of humor, don’t you think?”
“I never thought anything about it. But what are you going to do about that bill?”
“I’m going to argue about it, and declare I won’t pay it, and then pay it like a true American. Would you have me upset the traditions? But I’ve got to go to the bank first.”
I did just as I said. I argued to no avail. Mrs. Black was quite haughty, and made me feel like a chimney-sweep. I paid her in full, and when I came up I said:
“You are quite right. She has a poor opinion of us. When I asked her how long it would take to drive to a house in West End, she said, ‘Why do you want to know?’ I said I ‘wanted to see the house.’”
“Didn’t you tell her we were invited there?” asked my sister, scandalized.