She opened her eyes wide, and stared. “You don’t have to do dat,” she said.
“I know I don’t,” I laughed, “but I like to do it.”
“You don’t have to do dat,” she repeated. “Ay like to do de housekeeping.”
“I know,” I said again, “and I like to do this. You’ve done lots of things for me you didn’t have to do. Why shouldn’t I do something for you?”
At that she took it, offering me a rough wet hand, which I took gravely. “Tank you,” she said, and the tears rolled down her cheeks.
“You’ve earned it,” I assured her, “and you deserve it, and I’m very glad I can give it to you.”
From that hour she has been welded to me in a bond which I fondly hope is indestructible. She laughs and sings at her work, pets her beloved kitten, and diffuses through my six rooms the atmosphere of good cheer. She “looks after me,” anticipates my wishes, and dedicates to me a continual loyal service which has no equivalent in dollars and cents. She asked me, hesitatingly, if she might not get some one to fill her place for three months while she went back to Sweden. I didn’t like the idea, but I recognised her well-defined right.
“Ay not go,” she said, “if you not want me to. Ay tell my sister dat I want to stay wid Mrs. M. until she send me away.”
I knew she would have to go some time before she settled down to perpetual residence in an alien land, so I bade her God-speed. She secured the substitute and instructed her, arranged the matter of wages, and vouched for her honesty, but not for her work.
Before she left the city, I found that the substitute was hopelessly incompetent and stupid. When Annie came to say “good-bye” to me, I told her about the new girl. She broke down and wept. “Ay sorry Ay try to go,” she sobbed. “Ay tell my sister dere iss nobody what can take care of Mrs. M. lak Ay do!”