Comfortable Mrs. Crook, and other sketches

by Ruth Lamb

It was certainly a very humbling view she was getting of herself and her deservings. Why, even the very money she had saved, and which she could not carry away with her, was more likely to cause rejoicing in the hearts of those who inherited it than sorrow for her loss. She had a tidy sum well invested, far more than any one would have supposed; but even small savings grow satisfactorily, when it is all putting in and no drawing out, either of principal or interest. Besides, Crook had left what he did without any restrictions as to its final disposal. She could make somebody more than comfortable in turn, if she chose to bequeath all to one person.

But, so far, Mrs. Crook had never liked any individual well enough to make a will in his or her favour. Crook had no relatives, or a certain sense of hard justice might have disposed her to leave the money to them. The few relatives she had were very distant ones, both as to kindred and place of abode, and clearly had no claim upon what came by her husband.

She had been saving for somebody; but she had no idea for whom, and she did not like to picture any person in possession of this pretty home, filling her favourite chair, even wearing her best dresses.

Mrs. Crook had many a time felt certain that people were "making up to her," for the sake of her money, and the moment this thought took possession of her mind she had "given them the cold shoulder," as she expressed it, and let them see they need not come canting round her for the sake of what they could get.

But the world is not quite so selfish and mercenary as Mrs. Crook pictured it. There had been many warm-hearted, kindly Christian people who, during her ten years of widowhood, had felt honestly anxious to brighten a life that seemed so lonely and so self-absorbed. People, too, whose own worldly circumstances might have placed them above being suspected of wanting to benefit by Mrs. Crook, and whose sole desire was to do her good and make her happier.

They had all been driven away discouraged, and, in some cases, pained and grieved, by ill-disguised taunts. Now, as the "comfortable" widow paced up and down her parlour, she could remember no acquaintance or friend who would be likely to shed a tear if she died to-morrow.

"Really," thought Mrs. Crook, "I believe that little simpleton of a Fanny cares more for me than anybody else does. She is a soft-hearted thing, and I tell her sometimes that her tears lie very near her eyes. But she is true, and there is no crocodile crying or deceit about her. I wonder what it is that makes her different from so many of the girls I have had. Most of them would be fair to my face and cheat me almost before my back was turned. I had to spend half my time looking after them to see that they did the work properly, but it makes no difference to Fanny, whether I am at hand or no. She never leaves speck or spot that hard rubbing will remove. As to talking back again! She never gives me a saucy word when I find fault."

By Mrs. Crook's own confession, strictly private and made only in her own mind—it became evident, even to herself, that she did not behave with strict justice towards Fanny. If the girl did her work so conscientiously, surely there was little room for fault-finding; and yet, it was so much the mistress's habit to grumble, that Fanny had often to bear the weight of her tongue, whilst feeling that she did not deserve to be scolded, and that at times, try as she might, she could do nothing right.

Fanny could not, however, know that scolding at regular intervals was a matter of principle with Mrs. Crook, who had long ago settled in her own mind that if a girl were not idle and careless to begin with, she would certainly become so, unless kept up to the mark by judicious fault-finding. Girls needed to be "taken down," or they would become so conceited there would be no bearing them.

Mrs. Crook was like many other people who are past middle age, and who take no trouble to remember their own young days. They expect an amount of patience and forbearance from the girls who serve them, which they, as mistresses, are by no means willing to exercise in turn. And, knowing the unreasonableness of such expectations, they can hardly believe the fact when they are occasionally realised.