Missy: A Novel

by Miriam Coles Harris

Gabrielle gave Miss Varian a very bitter look, but Miss Varian was none the worse for that. Mr. Andrews now arose to go, but Miss Varian protested he should not go till Missy had sent down the addresses of the persons she had recommended.

"I won't have you kept in such a state for anybody's caprice," she said, sending Goneril up with a message. And then Mr. Andrews knew that Miss Varian did not love her step-niece.

"Missy is very fond of managing," she said. "She must understand she can't lay down the reins whenever she chooses. She must carry out what she undertakes."

Goneril was gone a very long time, it seemed to Mr. Andrews; he really thought he was having a great deal of petticoat government. If it were not for the two children, he would have got clear of the whole sex, he thought. He would have taken bachelor apartments, and had not even a chamber-maid. He would have gone to a club for his meals, and not have spoken to a woman from year's end to year's end. But there was poor little Jay, with his tawny hair all unkempt, and his saucy sister with her sash ends in a tangle; for their sakes he must be grateful to these kind and dictatorial friends. Certainly he could not do without women while he had those two to care for. He must get used to women, he supposed; get to be half a woman himself; learn how to keep house; be a perfect Betty. He groaned, patiently, while Miss Varian kept up a brisk talk about his matters.

At last Goneril came back. Goneril was much interested in his matters too. She was so much interested, and so zealous, that he was quite abashed. He wondered how many more women would be needed to put his affairs en train. Goneril was a very tall, well-built woman, with an energetic tread. She had her own views on most matters, and was not withheld from uttering them by any false delicacy about a menial position. Wasn't she the daughter of an American farmer? So, when she came down to deliver Miss Rothermel's message, she added many of her own observations to the message, and quite bewildered Mr. Andrews. He did not know which was the original text, and which the comment on it; and Miss Varian's cross-fire did not render matters simpler.

"Here's the names of the persons Miss Rothermel was speaking of," Goneril said, giving him the paper; "and the places where you'll find 'em. But my opinion is, you'll have your trouble for your pains, if you go hunting up Melinda Larkins. She'll never come to you. She won't undertake to live in a family where there isn't anybody to look after things. Things go wrong in every house, more or less; but where there's only Help, the troubles are laid to the wrong door, and you never know what you'll be accused of."

"That is," said Miss Varian, sharply, "bad as a mistress is, it's worse without a mistress."

"I don't know anything about mistresses," retorted Goneril, with a toss of the head. "People that you live with may call themselves anything they like. That don't make 'em so. They might call themselves em-presses and prin-cesses, but it wouldn't make 'em so."

"And servants might call themselves Help, but that wouldn't make them so. As long as they draw their wages for the work they do, they are servants, and nothing more nor less than servants."

Poor Mr. Andrews felt as if he had got into a very hot fire, and as if, somehow, he were guilty of having lighted it.