He clasped his hands in apparent agony of mind. “In the kitchen! That delightful old cheese that would have kept for months! Do you know, my dear, what such cheese as that costs?”
This was the signal for a series of “pokings,” as Isabel called them, and from the table Mr. Bettyman went into the kitchen at last. Through the window I watched him giving directions to the cook, who stood, broom in hand, patiently awaiting them. Pots, kettles, stew-pans, ovens, and what not, were lifted out in obedience to his warning finger. Not Hercules, with the distaff, so labored for his Dejanira, and I could not help wishing that some spiteful elf would suddenly transform him into an old woman at once.
We had retired to our separate chambers as soon as the coffee had disappeared, for each wished to conceal from the other the feeling of indignation, amusement, and anger, that my host had called forth. Josephine’s eyes were red when she joined us in the evening, for she had been deeply mortified at the ridicule to which he inevitably exposed himself, and a burning spot on her cheek told that for once she began to feel some resentment at this tacit condemnation of her own part in her household affairs. She seemed nervously expecting her husband’s appearance, and seated herself at length by Isabel.
“Josy,” said she, smiling, and putting her arm around her, “why do you not give up the keys at once? I’m sure, since Cousin Edwin is so fond of playing housekeeper, that he might as well accept your abdication in his favor. Besides, and curiously, my dearest Josy, you will soon be obliged to resign the office, and as it then falls to my lot, depend upon it I shall not be the patient, enduring creature that you are.”
“I have been thinking of the very same thing, Isabel,” replied Josy, laughing now in spite of herself, and at the same moment her husband came, “puffing and blowing” into the hall where we were assembled to enjoy the summer air and take our tea. (I never could imagine how it is, that people will swallow boiling liquid on the hottest of days, but somehow or other we cannot do without it, even when fanning ourselves, and exclaiming at the heat. This much for the consistency of human nature.)
Mr. Bettyman seated himself in a fan-chair, and began rocking to his apparent content.
“I have done a good day’s work, ladies, allow me to tell you,” said he, with much complacency; and turning to his wife, “all for your benefit, Josy.”
“And I am not ungrateful, Edwin. To prove to you how much I am humbled at your discovery of my incompetency to see to my ménage, I have resolved to give it up entirely, and beg you to continue in my place. Here are the keys,” and stepping forward, Josephine dropped the basket at his feet. “Martin—Lucy! hereafter you will go to your master for orders, and remember that I am on no account to be disturbed by any one of you.”
It was impossible to laugh, for the quiet dignity of her manner forbade it. Martin bowed—Lucy curtsied and ran off. Edwin remained as if spell-bound. He had never once dreamed of Josy’s rebelling, and had looked upon himself as a model husband from the daily assistance he afforded her. Moreover, he began to perceive his absurd position, and reddening to the temples, arose from his chair.
“You are surely not in earnest, Josephine, in offering me these keys. I am not the proper person to carry them; certainly, I have endeavored to assist, and enable you, knowing your inexperience, to become more careful with your property and mine; but I do not wish to usurp your place at all.”