I shall tell you what happened last.
Mrs. S. W. Swingle, gentlemanly lady of red-haired beauty, say tackfully, “I will employ you at great risk. Please arrive to my home to-night.”
There I went. This S. W. Swingle lady reside with her husband and children respectively at Railroad View, N. J. Her Mr. Swingle, to which she is married, is a timetable as well as a husband. His soul is full of trains. He arrive home at 6.43 and require dinner at 6.59. He go to bed at 11.04 and demand breakfast at 7.22 so he can catch 8.12 train.
When I got on this job I dishcovered that my tranquillity was going to be very scarce. I must greet milkman at dawn-light and continue my domestic science all day until exhausted.
Mrs. S. W. Swingle, with sweethearted expression, say that busy folks is most happy. If this is truthful I should prefer to be slightly miserable on Sunday and Thursday afternoons.
Yet I remain stationary in employment until Monday when sorrow arrive wrapped up in a Paper Bag. I shall tell you how was.
At hour of 2.44 Mrs. S. W. Swingle arrive to kitchen with cutting expression peculiar to scissors.
“Togo, why for do you prepare such bad food?” she decry with angry rage. “There is no uplift in your biscuits. Your beef is boiled until it lose all originality. Mr. S. W. Swingle, who is far from strong, say your coffee is the same. And so forth. You must learn to discontinue this. If we cannot fare better you must farewell.”
My soul feel punctured by this conversation. It seem very brutal for me to go loose again when jobs is so infrequent to obtain.
While thusly I was thinking I find on tip-shelf of pantry one slight brown book. It was wrote by a Kitchen Professor and bore this remarkable title: