Missy: A Novel

by Miriam Coles Harris

"I ought to be going to see about these—persons—I suppose; if I can get them to-night it will be all the better," he said, rising, while the discussion about titles was still raging.

"Well, you won't get anybody on such short notice that's worth having," Goneril interrupted herself to say. "Melinda Larkins wouldn't think of taking a place, without going over to the island to see her folks about it. She has some self-respect, if she is obliged to live out."

"If she is obliged to go into service, you mean," said Miss Varian. "There won't be much difficulty about your getting her, Mr. Andrews, I am sure. All these people are very poor, and will do anything for money."

"Money isn't everything," began Goneril; but Mr. Andrews had got to the hall.

"I can but go and see about them," he said, as he made his bow.

He heard a rage of tongues as he closed the door. He felt as if the flames were shooting out after him and scorching his very eyebrows.

He drew a long breath when he was out of hearing of the house, and under the trees in the night air. What bliss a world without women would be. Here he was embroiled with three, after his brave fight of the morning too, which should have won him their applause. There was no pleasing them, and their tongues—their tongues. Pleased or displeased, he asked nothing better than to get away from them. He thought for a rash moment that he would steal Jay and go away with him to some monastery, and leave Gabby to her fate. But, poor little Gabby, he was sorry for her, even if she did love to impart information and to make mischief. Yes, he must stay by them, poor little mites, and try to help them out of their dismal plight. So he went to the stable, and saddled his horse, and threw a severe order or two to the decent man, of whom he was not afraid.

Then he rode into the jaws of fate, to see Melinda Larkins, who couldn't make up her mind in a minute; to see the one proposed as nursery maid, who wasn't in; to see the waitress, who asked him a great many questions that he couldn't answer. "What part of the wash would be hers? What evening could she have? Who was to get tea Sunday when the cook was out? Was there to be a regular dinner for the children in the middle of the day, and a regular dinner again at night?"

To all these questions, and many more as puzzling, Mr. Andrews could give no well considered answer. He felt the necessity of appearing to know a little about the ordering of his household; his dealings with men had taught him that ignorance is fatal to authority, and strangely and sadly as the sexes differed, there must be some general points of resemblance. It would not do to let this trim young creature, with her black eyes and her white apron, respectful as yet, standing at the gate in an attitude of attention, know that he had never known who did the wash in his house, or whether there was a regular dinner in the middle of the day, or whether the cook ever went out, or how many evenings belonged to the waitress. He said rather lamely that he had only come to see if she were disengaged; he had not time to talk these details over. If she were at liberty, she might come the next morning at ten, and he would make final arrangements with her.

She respectfully consented to this, but it is highly probable that she saw through the maneuver, and knew that "time" was what her future master wanted, and that there was a good deal in her catechism that was new to him. He knew, or feared this knowledge on her part, and went slowly away on his milk-white steed, much humbled and perplexed.