I have arranged to go to Manila on the 28th, to-morrow three weeks, by the Butuan, the weekly mail. We heard fearful reports of these steamers, as I told you, when we were leaving Manila, but unfortunately there is no other means of getting to Manila from here. I am very glad it is arranged that I am to go, and I am looking forward very much to the change of air and scene. C—— is very anxious for me to take a servant to wait on me, for ladies generally take a native retainer with them when they travel about; but I won’t hear of such extravagance, and think I shall have far less trouble with only myself to look after, and without the extra burden of a bewildered Filipino. A friend of ours came from Manila the other day on a visit, with one of these appanages of state in her wake, and he seemed to me to be more trouble than the whole journey was worth.
À propos of servants, we had an amusing and very characteristic adventure with the cook a day or two ago, when it occurred to us that for some time past we had not seen what we thought was the worth of a peso and a half of food appearing on the table, and nearly all the dishes seemed to be concocted from ingredients out of the dispensa; and eggs which, tiny though they are, cost the same as fresh-laid ones of ordinary size at home. What is more, they go bad so quickly that the price is really more, because so many have to be thrown away. Well, C—— said to the cook quite amiably that that functionary must revert to his original plan of giving us a daily list of his expenses, and the cook replied, very sulkily, “Si señor.”
Next morning, when I was giving out stores, the cook said:
“I should like to leave the señora’s service to-morrow. I can’t read or write, as the señora knows, and the cook downstairs, who used to do my list for me, has gone away.”
Of course I knew every word of this to be an utter lie, and that my wily friend was only “trying it on,” as they say, because he knew it would be very inconvenient for us to dismiss him before I went to Manila. But I did not flatter him or “play up” to him by looking the least surprised or put out; I merely answered, very gravely and politely: “Certainly, cocinero, that will suit us perfectly. I will see about your wages.”
Such a look of utter disgust and surprise came over his monkey-face—exactly like Brookes’ monkey with the frying-pan—but I said nothing, and went on serving out potatoes and tinned fruit, and giving orders as to how I wished to have the things cooked.
When C—— came home and heard this domestic history, he wanted to go and find the cook, and call him and his ancestry every name under the sun; but I implored him not to pander to the creature’s vanity by such a compliment as letting him think for one instant that we wished him to stay. So no words were said; but we observed that the menu was immensely improved.
Next morning, when Domingo came for the cook’s marketing money, instead of sending it out, I went out myself and said: “Well, do you want the gastos money or your wages?”
“Oh,” said the cook, with a regular sort of rogue’s way he has of looking you straight in the eye, “I will take the gastos. I will remain with the señora to-day, as I see she has not been able to get another cook.”