“She ain’t got no language,” said cook. “She never does talk but of fooleries.”
“She stands for her dog,” said Louis feebly, for the women always out-talked him.
Here the young girl who did her hair and nails, and who used to come out to the kitchen for a cup of tea, made a very dismal prophecy about Beanie that unfortunately came true.
“Just listen to me,” she said wrinkling her dark eyebrows, “that woman ain’t got no thought for anything but herself. Husband, help, dog—she’d see you all in the Hudson, and never lift a finger to save you. Why, when that fat dog comes between her and a table or a chair in the bed-room, that she’s making for, he gets a push that lands him most into the next room. If she took it into her head to get rid of him, out he’d go.”
Louis was sweet on this girl, and he smiled at her. “I never saw no kicking from her,” he remarked amiably. “Mrs. Putty-Face has been kind along to me. I often gets a tip. Maybe she’ll make good yet. She’s young, ain’t she?”
This brought on a long, tiresome argument. When the maids got on mistress’s clothes or her age, I always left the kitchen. Why don’t they talk about the war or politics, instead of that eternal drivel about master and mistress?
The two people at the head of the establishment never mentioned them, nor looked at them, except to ask for something. I wonder whether that was not one reason why there was not more sympathy between the working end and the commanding end of the house. I had been in several homes before this, where there was criticism between employer and employed, but a criticism softened by sympathy and mutual interest.
I blamed mistress. Down at the café, the servants were never familiar with the gentlemen patrons, but there was a good spirit prevailing, and I heard no hateful remarks there. The gentlemen were kind to the garçons, in a quiet way, and the garçons were respectful to the gentlemen, and they got their reward, for once when one of them fell ill, the gentlemen clubbed together, and sent him to a beautiful place in the country.
To come back to Beanie, I had noticed for several days that mistress hadn’t been talking silly talk to him, and usually left him home, when she went out in the car. He wasn’t apprehensive about it. His too solid flesh made him a stupid dog. He was simply annoyed to miss his outing. However, to give him credit, he never said a word against his mistress. He just plodded round the apartment after her, never doubting that she adored him as much as she said she did.