Flora’s reveries were abruptly dispelled by a gentle knock at the door; and her “Come in,” was answered by a tall, portly, handsome old lady, who sailed into the room in all the conscious dignity of black silk and white lawn.
The handsome old lady was Mrs. Kitson, the wife of the naval officer, whose ready-furnished lodgings they had occupied for the last year. Flora rose to meet her visitor, with the baby still upon her arm.
“Mrs. Kitson, I am happy to see you. Pray take the easy-chair by the fire. I hope your cough is better.”
“No chance of that,” said the healthy old lady, who had never known a fit of dangerous illness in her life, “while I continue so weak. Hu—hu—hu—. You see, my dear, that it is as bad as ever.”
Flora thought that she never had seen a person at Mrs. Kitson’s advanced stage of life with such a healthy, rosy visage. But every one has some pet weakness. Mrs. Kitson’s was always fancying herself ill and nervous. Now, Flora had no very benignant feelings towards the old lady’s long catalogue of imaginary ailments; so she changed the dreaded subject, by inquiring after the health of the old Captain, her husband.
“Ah, my dear, he’s just as well as ever,—nothing in the world ever ails him; and little he cares for the sufferings of another. This is a great day with him; he’s all bustle and fuss. Just step to the window, and look at his doings. It’s enough to drive a sensible woman mad. Talk of women wearing the smalls, indeed! it’s a base libel on the sex. Captain Kitson is not content with putting on my apron, but he appropriates my petticoats also. I cannot give an order to my maid, but he contradicts it, or buy a pound of tea, but he weighs it after the grocer. Now, my dear, what would you do if the Leaftenant was like my husband?”
“Really, I don’t know,” and Flora laughed heartily. “It must be rather a trial of patience to a good housekeeper like you. But what is he about?” she cried, stepping to the window that overlooked a pretty lawn in front of the house, which commanded a fine view of the sea. “He and old Kelly seem up to their eyes in business. What an assemblage of pots and kettles, and household stuff there is upon the lawn! Are you going to have an auction?”
“You may well think so; if that were the case, there might be some excuse for his folly. No; all this dirt and confusion, which once a week drives me nearly beside myself, is what K—— calls clearing up the ship; when he and his man Friday, as he calls Kelly, turn everything topsy-turvy, and, to make the muddle more complete, they always choose my washing-day for their frolic. Pantries and cellars are rummaged over, and everything is dragged out of its place, for the mere pleasure of making a litter, and dragging it in again.
“Look at the lawn! Covered with broken dishes, earless jugs, cracked plates, and bottomless saucepans,” continued Mrs. Kitson. “What a dish of nuts for my neighbours to crack! They always enjoy a hearty laugh at my expense, on Kitson’s clearing-up days. But what does he care for my distress? In vain I hide up all this old trumpery in the darkest nooks in the cellar and pantry—nothing escapes his prying eyes; and then he has such a memory, that if he misses an old gallipot he raises a storm loud enough to shake down the house.
“The last time he went to London,” pursued the old lady, “I collected a vast quantity of useless trash, and had it thrown into the pond behind the house. Well, when he cleared the decks next time, if he did not miss the old broken crockery, all of which, he said, he meant to mend with white lead on rainy days; while the broken bottles, forsooth, he had saved to put on the top of the brick wall, to hinder the little boys from climbing over to steal the apples! Oh, dear, dear, dear! there was no end to his bawling, and swearing, and calling me hard names, while he had the impudence to tell Kelly, in my hearing, that I was the most extravagant woman in the world. Now, I, that have borne him seventeen children, should know something about economy and good management; but he gives me no credit at all for that. He began scolding again to-day, but my poor head could not stand it any longer; so I came over to spend a few minutes with you.”