An official tells a good story of the time when Hamilton Fish was Secretary of State. It had been said that Mrs. Fish sometimes carried her high ideas of courtesy too far—that it was Quixotic.
One of her rules, for instance, was to return every call she received. Her husband was continually holding public receptions, and to these, out of courtesy, many women would come who had no desire that Mrs. Fish should call upon them—who were in no position to receive her properly if she did call.
One such woman attended a Fish reception, left her card, and a little later was duly honored by a call from Mrs. Fish. The Fish equipage dashed down the narrow street and halted before the woman’s shabby little house. The footman opened the carriage door and Mrs. Fish descended.
The poor woman of the house was in a dreadful predicament. She was, alas, kneeling on the sidewalk beside a bucket of hot water. Her sleeves were rolled back. She had a scrubbing-brush in one hand and a cake of soap in the other. She was scrubbing the front steps.
Bending graciously over her, Mrs. Fish asked politely:
“Is Mrs. Henry Robinson at home?”
And Mrs. Henry Robinson replied: “No, mum, she ain’t,” and went on scrubbing.
(3073)
Streams, Living and Dying—See [Early Promise].
STRENGTH