On arriving in your new place you get from the servant who is going away the character of your new mistress. She has already had yours, and you have a right to know hers, which, as it is given by a domestic who is most probably discharged, will, of course, be a very bad one.
Mistress. "You wish me to take your notice, Jane. This is very sudden, isn't it?"
Jane (blushing). "Oh no, mum, I've known 'im three days!"
When your predecessor has taken her departure, your mistress may, perhaps, come into the kitchen and tell you what you will have to do, or, at least, a part of it. She will show you the bells, and tell you which is the house bell, which the parlour bell, which the drawing-room bell, and which are the bells of the different bed-rooms; but she will not tell you how you are to answer them when they are all ringing at once, which may occasionally happen. As it will probably be late when you arrive, you will have to carry up the tray for supper, when you will be stared at, and scrutinised as the new servant, by the whole of the family. Let us now look at your wardrobe. Two of each article will be enough, for if the washing is done once a week you have a change; but if only once in three weeks, you must contrive to supply yourself with the smaller articles, such as stockings and pocket handkerchiefs, from the family stock of linen.
As a maid-of-all-work, you have the great advantage of being a good deal alone, and can therefore indulge in the pleasures of philosophy. You can light the fires, and think of Hobbes. Fasten the hall-door, and recollect some passage in Locke. Or broil the ham for breakfast while wrapped up in Bacon.
"Merely Mary Ann" Again.—"Please, 'm, the fishmonger says will you have it filtered?"
You should rise early if you can, but if you cannot you must make up for it by hurrying over your work as quickly as possible. As warm water will be wanted upstairs, don't stop to light the wood, and set them all burning at once, when you will have some hot water immediately. Run into kitchen fire, but throw on two or three bundles of the parlour and open the shutters, light the fire, cut the bread and butter, clean the shoes, make the toast; and when this is on the table, devote any time you may have to spare to sweeping the carpet.
Now, the family having gone down to breakfast, you may light the kitchen fire, and then run up and make the beds. After which you may sit down to your own breakfast, having previously, of course, taken the opportunity of helping yourself to tea and sugar from the tea-caddy.
You may now go upstairs, professedly to sweep the bedrooms, but really to look out of window, and if the street is a narrow one, talk to the servant opposite. Besides, looking out of window saves time, for you are able to answer the fifty people who come to the door in the course of the morning with hair-brooms, apples, carpets and rugs, tapes and stay-laces.