As I could, without seeming to make a point of it, I sent things to the sister and the children—partially worn curtains, bits of ribbons, little toys, and the like. I made her room as pretty and dainty as my own, though the furnishings were not so expensive, and gave her a potted plant in a brass jar. When flowers were sent to me, I gave her a few for the vase in her room. She began to say “we” instead of “you.” She spoke of “our” spoons, or “our” table linen. She asked, what shall “we” do about this or that? what shall “we” have for dinner? instead of “what do you want?” She began to laugh when she played with the kitten, and even to sing at her work.
When she did well, I praised her, as I had all along, but instead of saying, “Iss dat so?” when I remarked that the muffins were delicious or the dessert a great success, her face began to light up, and a smile take the place of the impersonal comment. The furious temper began to wane, or, at least, to be under better control. Guests occasionally inquired, “What have you done to that maid of yours?”
Five times we have left her, for one or two months at a time, on full salary, with unlimited credit at the grocery, and with from fifty to one hundred dollars in cash. During the intervals we heard nothing from her. We have returned each time to an immaculate house, a smiling maid, a perfectly cooked and nicely served meal, and an account correct to a penny, with vouchers to show for it, of the sum with which she had been intrusted.
I noticed each time a vast pride in the fact that she had been so trusted, and from this developed a gratifying loyalty to the establishment. I had told her once to ask her sister and children to spend the day with her while we were gone. It seems that the children were noisy, and the lady in the apartment below us came up to object.
An altercation ensued, ending with a threat from the lady downstairs to “tell Mrs. M. when she came home.” Annie told me herself, with flashing eyes and shaking hands. I said, calmly: “The children must have been noisy, or she would not have complained. You are used to them, and besides it would sound worse downstairs than up here. But it doesn’t amount to anything, for I had told you you could have the children here, and if I hadn’t been able to trust you I wouldn’t have left you.” Thus the troubled waters were calmed.
The crucial test of her qualities came when I entered upon a long period of exhaustive effort. The first day, we both had a hard time, as her highly specialised Baptist conscience would not permit her to say I was “not at home,” when I was merely writing a book. After she thoroughly understood that I was not to be disturbed unless the house took fire, further quiet being insured by disconnecting the doorbell and muffling the telephone, things went swimmingly.
“Annie,” I said, “I want you to run this house until I get through with my book. Here is a hundred dollars to start with. Don’t let anybody disturb me.” She took it with a smile, and a cheerful “all right.”
From that moment to the end, I had even less care than I should have had in a well-equipped hotel. Not a sound penetrated my solitude. If I went out for a drink of water, she did not speak to me. We had delicious dinners and dainty breakfasts which might have waited for us, but we never waited a moment for them. She paid herself regularly every Monday morning, kept all receipts, sent out my husband’s laundry, kept a strict list of it, mended our clothes, managed our household as economically as I myself could have done it, and, best of all, insured me from any sort of interruption with a sort of fierce loyalty which is beyond any money value.
Once I overheard a colloquy at my front door, which was briefly and decisively terminated thus: “Ay already tell you dat you not see her! She says to me, ‘Annie, you keep dose peoples off from me,’ and Ay keep dem off!” I never have known what dear friend was thus turned away from my inhospitable door.
Fully appreciating my blessings, the night I finished my work I went into the kitchen with a crisp, new, five-dollar bill. “Annie,” I said, “here is a little extra money for you. You’ve been so nice about the house while I’ve been busy.”