University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
THE HOUSEKEEPER.

We are now to be ushered into the presence
of Mrs. Hopkins, the notable housekeeper, who
is to take charge of everything, to bring “order
out of confusion,” and restore quietness
where discord has reigned. She has just
alighted from a carriage, bringing with her
a large travelling trunk and valise, besides
sundry bandboxes, all of which indicated to
the vigilant eyes of the neighbours that Mrs.
Harley had a country cousin who had dropped
down in an evil time, as they were aware
of her inadequacy to take charge of those already
under her care.

Mrs. Hopkins's appearance was masculine
in the extreme; she looked competent to navigate
a ship, to say nothing of managing a
house. After considerable stir made by paying
for her conveyance, which the coachman
thought worth fifty cents, and Mrs. Hopkins
but twenty-five, she closed the door with a
loud invective against all hackmen, and, escorted

by Dorcas, went to the nursery, where she
found Mrs. Harley busily engaged in taking
care of little Johnny, who was threatened with
the croup.

“I am so glad you have come, Mrs. Hopkins,”
said the delighted Mrs. Harley, “that I
know not how to express myself. Had it not
been for the expectation of seeing you, I should
hardly have survived the day. Now I want
you to make this your home, to act in it as if
it were your own.”

To all this the housekeeper assented with
becoming nods. There was one thing Mrs.
Harley detected which damped the ardour
of her expectations: she observed that Mrs.
Hopkins sat in gloves: it might be, she had
chapped hands; but they were pic-nic gloves.
Had that been the case, she would have worn
kid. And still she sat, not asking to see the
kitchen, nor offering to do anything in the
nursery. At length it was nearly tea-time.
Mrs. Harley revolved in her mind what she
should say. How unfortunate that she could
not assert her place, and thus show the housekeeper
hers likewise. Dorcas had been despatched
to kindle a fire under the tea-kettle;

meanwhile Mrs. Hopkins took out her knitting,
drew off her gloves, and behold, there were
glittering rings on her fingers! But the time
had come for Mrs. Harley to speak: she mustered
courage and said, “Mrs. Hopkins, will
you take charge of the tea-table to-night?”

“Certainly,” replied the dame: “I always
preside at the tea-table.”

“But I mean, see to the making of the toast,
and putting in a proper quantity of tea. Dorcas
is at your service to assist you.”

“That is not my business, Mrs. Harley. I
did not understand, when I engaged to become
your housekeeper, that I should be your cook.
I merely engaged to see to the arrangements
of your table, give directions as to the quality
and quantity of the food, and the time that was
unoccupied after this oversight was completed
was to be my own. You surely have a cook
in your kitchen?”

Mrs. Harley had a certain inefficiency of
mind, which caused her to be grossly imposed
upon by the artful—such a woman as she had
now to contend with in Mrs. Hopkins. She
therefore did not instantly inform her how she
understood it, and tell the real state of the case,

but gave a sort of passive assent to all that
was said, which imboldened greatly the new
housekeeper.

“Bridget, my cook, left me this morning,”
said Mrs. Harley. Mrs. Hopkins burst into a
violent fit of laughter at the idea of Bridget's
being a cook, as she had been an eye-witness
to her capability while in Mrs. Hunt's employ.

“But I nope you are on the look-out for another,”
said Mrs. Hopkins; and, bridling up her
head, she added, “I could have gone to fifty
places where they have established servants,
had it not been for your pressing solicitations.”

Now the whole truth was laid open: a new
cook was to be provided. Mistress Hopkins's
place was in the parlour, Dorcas was to do as
she dictated, and Mrs. Harley was indeed to
relinquish housekeeping. She dared not think
of the issue. What would Mr. Harley say?
He had already said, “Every woman ought
to manage her own house.” She had a sort
of feeling that there was truth in the remark.

During this course of reasoning, however,
all things stood still. Dorcas had made the
water boil in the tea-kettle, and then, like a

child, had recourse to her almanac, and felt no
farther concern. Mr. Harley came home to
supper: the housekeeper was busily engaged
in knitting. Mrs. Harley looked disconcerted,
for, in fact, there was not much to give her
a calm expression. She called Dorcas, who
never did a thing unless when told, to lay the
table, and they put upon it some cold bread
and butter, and some preserves which Nancy
had made, and sat down, leaving Mrs. Hopkins
in the nursery. This was quite too much
for her spirit to bear. She told Mrs. Harley
that her place was at the table with herself
and husband; that if she intended to make a
servant of her, she would find out her mistake;
and then, to show her title to the situation, she
commenced a harangue upon her pedigree,
making out her noble extraction, although Mrs.
Hunt had told Mrs. Harley that she was extremely
low, and her character rather questionable,
notwithstanding the good recommendation
she gave her.

Poor, inefficient wife, how I wish I could
relieve you! I long to discard your house-keeper,
to bid you learn to govern, and become
mistress of your family!

Mr. Harley, of course, felt again disheartened.
There seemed an end to all attempts at
living with any comfort, and he communicated
his thoughts again to his wife. But she bore
up with a firmer spirit. She thought, if a cook
could only be obtained, she should do well
enough; and as she had heard of one that evening
who was about leaving one of the neighbouring
families, she entreated permission of
her husband to make but this one more trial.
The expense was not mentioned, and the indulgent
husband granted the request.