The girl looked confused and distressed. But she took the cream-jug and went down-stairs with it.
"That's just the way they always do!" said Mrs. Jones; leaning back in her chair. "I really get out of all patience, sometimes."
In a little while the girl returned.
"It's the cream, ma'am, as I said. Here's the milk." And she presented two vessels.
Mrs. Jones took both from her hands with an ill-natured jerk. Sure enough, it was as the girl had said.
"Such cream!" fell from the lips of our hostess, as she commenced pouring it into the cups already filled with tea.
The girl went down-stairs to take back the milk she had brought up, but she was scarcely at the bottom of the stairs, when the bell was rung for her.
"Why don't you stay here? What are you running off about?" said Mrs. Jones, as she came in hurriedly. "You know I want you to wait on the table."
And so it was during the whole meal. The girl was not once spoken to except in a tone of anger or offensive authority.
I was no longer surprised that Mrs. Jones found it difficult to keep good domestics, for no one of feeling can long remain with a woman who speaks to them always in a tone of command, or who reproves them in the presence of visitors.