University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.
THE NEW COOK AND NEW MANAGEMENT.

“There is a firkin of butter wanting,” said
Abigail, as she commenced her new apprenticeship,
“and a barrel of flour, and another
of sugar, and a bag of coffee, for aught I can
see of any; and pray tell me where is the
store-room, and the closet of crockery, and
things to do with, for I suppose they don't expect
me to make things out of nothing,” muttered
the new-comer into the ears of Mrs.
Hopkins.

“Certainly not,” said she; and, drawing a little
book from her pocket, she took her pencil
and noted the necessary articles, to pass them
over to Mr. Harley when he came home to
dinner. Having finished the list enumerated
by the cook, she furnished her own, which consisted
of jars of olives and limes, drums of figs,
boxes of raisins, &c. She then handed the list
to Mr. Harley, adding, “I have only put down

the necessaries upon this account; the others I
will give you at my leisure.”

Mr. Harley took the items thus furnished
into the nursery, and read them over to his
wife, adding, “I see no reason why a house-keeper
should be indulged in these last luxuries;
do tell me if this is the fashion, to procure
whatever their fancy may dictate: if so, I believe
I will turn housekeeper myself.”

“Now, Mr. Harley,” said the wife, “don't
begin to find fault the first thing. We are out
of these articles, and they are useful, I doubt
not: Mrs. Hopkins is so experienced, she would
not ask for unnecessaries. Do let her have
the entire control for one month, at least, without
fretting; by that time we can see how
things will come out.”

As much as Mr. Harley dreaded changes
generally, now he almost desired them, for he
saw the impositions thus commencing. The
figs and olives were erased, for he resolved
that they should not be procured; half the
quantity of some of the other articles was ordered,
while all Abigail's specifications were
procured without finding a word of fault. The
housekeeper's rage was enkindled when she

saw that the handcart did not contain all the
articles upon which she had set her fancy.
She breathed out her invectives to Abigail in
little Dorcas's hearing, ending them with, “I
will come up with them yet.” These last
words little Dorcas reported to her mistress,
besides telling her that Abigail was going to
make some poundcake for luncheon. This irritated
Mrs. Harley, who, instead of proceeding
to the kitchen to cast her eyes about there,
bade Dorcas stop her tattling, and bring no
reports to her ears; she expected the cook and
housekeeper to attend to all those things; the
cake was probably making for tea. Dorcas,
thus rebuked, resolved, if they gave her any,
she would never tell any more tales; so she
crept softly into the kitchen about the time
her olfactories told her the cake was smoking
hot somewhere; but, seeing Mrs. Hopkins run
with it to the closet as a safe retreat, while
Abigail bade her “Go along up stairs and stop
the everlasting crying of that child,” she deemed
it best to make her retreat.

“Dorcas, do stay here and attend to your
business,” reiterated Mrs. Harley. The child,
reproved alike in nursery and kitchen, took

her seat beside the cradle of little sleeping
John.

By-and-by Mrs. Hopkins came up, and, in
true palaver style, though much malice lay in
her heart, hoping she did not intrude, begged
permission to know what grocer in the neighbourhood
Mr. Harley patronised. She would
like to keep a little book account with one of
them; it was so handy to run in such a place
when you were waiting for some little thing.

“But,” said Mrs. Harley, “my husband prefers
to pay for such things at the time; if you
want small change, he will always give it to
you. He says the reason is, there is generally
something added on each little article purchased,
which is saved when paid for at the
time. However, if it is really needful to have
such an account, perhaps he will not object, if
you ask him. I don't know about these matters,
I am sure. Is not this a pretty frill for
my satin dress, Mrs. Hopkins?”

“Beautiful, indeed, ma'am: what a fine
taste you have, Mrs. Harley. Poor Mrs.
Hunt used to get me to make all her caps for
her. She had no more taste than an owl.
And is this the dress you are making it for?”

continued the housekeeper, holding up a white
satin that lay upon the bed. “How splendidly
you will look, Mrs. Harley! I declare, I
was telling Abigail yesterday nobody would
take you to be a married lady, you look so
young.” So saying, she ran down stairs, telling
Abigail what a fool she had made of Mrs.
Harley, by stuffing her with flattery; “For,”
said she, “by that means I have got her consent
to keep a little account at the grocer's,
and I'll tell you what it is, it won't be a very
small sum at the end of the year; however, it
makes no difference to me: I shall be off before
that time.”

Dorcas (“the little plague” they used to
call her) was now despatched to the grocer's
for a variety of articles, and she was required
to get a book, where they might be inserted,
as Mr. Harley wished to open an account with
him. The reader may wonder that Mrs. Hopkins
did not go herself; but she knew well
that, in the end, the step she had taken would
occasion difficulty, and, if she did not order the
book herself, the blame might, in part, be
thrown upon Dorcas; at any rate, she or Abigail
might be made responsible; for she could

manage herself to evade it all, she artfully
reasoned. Thus the book was obtained, the
account commenced, and Mrs. Harley did not
give herself the trouble to inquire about it.
This indifference did not escape the eagle-eyed
housekeeper, and she resolved to take advantage
of it.

Dorcas was an excellent errand girl; a
little bribe would induce her to run herself almost
to death. How often were her services
required when Mrs. Harley was out! Little
Johnny had to be tied in a chair, and left
alone, while she was out doing the house-keeper's
errands. If he fell over, which he
sometimes did, of which proof was given by a
burn or scratch, good Mrs. Hopkins was the
first to tell his mother, adding, “Poor little
dear, when children creep so fast, they are
sure to go to the wrong place.” The bruise
was faithfully rubbed and kissed, and all was
well again. Thus was the shortsighted mother
deceived even by Dorcas; for she soon followed
the example of the housekeeper, because
she was rewarded with a handful of figs or a
nice cake whenever she pleased Mrs. Hopkins.

Matters now went on swimmingly. This
term is used, because they were literally all
afloat. Mrs. Harley was out every morning,
enjoying her delightful freedom. Mr. Harley
was always served with food excellently cooked,
and as the kitchen was prohibited ground
to him, unless at night, after all had gone to
rest, of course, things were in order for him
to see at that time, as all they wished concealed
was carefully put away, and he really began
to feel as if his home might still yield him
some enjoyment. The book was now kept at
the grocer's entirely; for it was so often wanted,
that Mrs. Hopkins said she could not take
the trouble of it; besides, she feared lest Mr.
Harley should get sight of it; and already
leaf after leaf was filled with little sundries,
from a cent's worth of yeast to those more expensive
articles which gave such fine flavour
to their soups, and such delicacies to their table.
Mr. Harley sometimes wondered how it
was that there was not oftener a call upon his
purse. He never dreamed of the grocer's
“little account.”