The last time I went to the States I intended to pay some visits, and as I was very overworked and tired I was persuaded to take a maid to look after me. That maid cost me a small fortune in money, as well as proving a constant anxiety, inasmuch as I had to look after her continually. A child of five years could not have been more trouble.
Almost before we left the landing-stage of the Mersey she told me she felt ill. The water at the time was perfectly calm; we were, in fact, still in the river, but the wretched woman went to bed before we crossed the bar and did not appear again until we reached New York; therefore I had the pleasure of paying her first-class fare and the extra steward’s tips for waiting on her—instead of her being a comfort to me.
Arrived on Yankee soil, I received a telegram from the President of Mexico suggesting my revisiting his country. I told the good lady I was going to Mexico.
“Law! M’m.”
“It is six days and nights in the train.”
“Law! M’m.”
By this time her eyes opened wider than ever. She still remembered the six days and nights on the steamer. Alas and alack! she was even more ill on the train than she had been on the boat. At Washington we had rooms on the seventh floor; but that woman refused to go up or down in the lift because it made her feel “so queer,” so she walked—and grumbled.
Oh, the joys of travelling with a servant!
When we started from New York I took off my rings and watchchain, and, as usual on such expeditions, packed them away.
The maid was sitting opposite to me in the train when she discovered they were missing. Suddenly she exclaimed: