University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.
DISMISSAL OF THE HOUSEKEEPER.

The changes in the domestic department occasioning
Mrs. Harley no farther uneasiness,
she set herself about the party in good earnest.
There were but three weeks before the eventful
evening would arrive, consequently they
must soon determine who should be invited
and who excluded. There were a few calling
acquaintances whom she must cut; they
were real bores at any time; for, whenever they
returned her calls, she was always mortified
if obliged to introduce them to her more fashionable
friends, and she inwardly resolved to
take this opportunity of dropping the acquaintance
of all of this class: they were a good
enough sort of people, but not accustomed to
fashionable life, and would make most sorry
figures in the room.

With high determination to have a genteel
party or none at all, Mrs. Harley sat down to
discuss her list of invitations with her husband.

He read it carefully, pausing occasionally, as
he came to a name with whose owner he had
not the slightest acquaintance, to ask his wife
why they were selected; to which she unhesitatingly
replied, that “She had met them in
company, and it was rather in vogue to invite
such people, if one fancied them. If they did
not come, why, no farther mention need be
made of it; if they did, it raised the character
of the party.”

This greatly amused Mr. Harley, and he
proceeded:

“But I don't see our friends the Bartons
here, nor the Millers, nor Captain White's family.
I hope you don't intend to omit such excellent
people?”

“Well, I did think, husband, I should not invite
any of them. I know they are good people,
but they would enjoy far better a visit in
a social way; you know they seldom go to
parties.”

“No matter for that, my dear; they must be
invited, and then they can act their pleasure
about coming. I have no idea of bringing
strangers to criticise our arrangements, while
our real friends are excluded.”

This last remark damped Mrs. Harley's high
hopes. She begged Mr. Harley to let her
have her own way about the invitations; adding,
“Those I exclude will probably never
hear I had a party.”

“But we shall know it ourselves, and I
should feel ashamed to meet those kind-hearted
people, who have done so much for us, and
know that I had purposely neglected them.
No, no, they must be invited.” So saying, he
put down ten names which Mrs. Harley had
excluded.

“I shall live, then, upon the hope that they
will all send their `regrets,' Mr. Harley, for
their daughters will only be wall-flowers all
the evening,” said Mrs. Harley, quite irritated.
“There won't be room for half I would like to
have. Do put down Dr. Green, Professor
Shaw, Dr. Baxter, and Colonel Lewis; they
will be the literary part of the company, and
we must furnish entertainment for some of our
sensible ladies who never dance. I have met
these gentlemen at Emma's and Mrs. Gerrish's,
and there can be no harm in inviting them
here.”

“It appears to me, my dear, that it would

be ridiculous in the extreme; I have no acquaintance
with one of those you last named.
We should confine ourselves to those we do
know: I am sure there are enough in our circle
of acquaintance.”

Mrs. Harley apparently acceded to the proposal,
but the next day wrote invitations to
every one of the gentlemen; “For,” said she,
“if Mr. Harley has his way in inviting all those
dowdyish people because they are good, I will
have these, for they will be the ornament of
the party; and if they refuse, he will never
know that they were invited.”

In the course of the week, three hundred invitations
were delivered by Jethro Moody, including
all ages, and nearly all ranks in life,
notwithstanding Mrs. Harley intended to have
a really select party.

And now the time had arrived when Mrs.
Harley must decide on the quality and colour
of her dress. She reopened all the patterns
she had so assiduously collected, and feeling
still undetermined, concluded to run down to
her dressmaker's and let her select one for
her. After a long consultation and deliberation,
carried on with as much gravity as

though the happiness of years was connected
with it, they concluded that the salmon velvet
would light the prettiest, and, being the most
expensive, would of course be the most genteel.

There seemed a fatality attendant upon both
dress and party, for upon coming home Mrs.
Harley found her husband very much excited
about Mrs. Hopkins, whom he suspected of
having stolen some money from his secretary.
He was certain it was there the evening before,
but this morning it was missing. He followed
his wife into the nursery, and told her
the particulars. She did not appear very
much astonished or grieved, but calmly replied,

“Well, my dear, let us make the best of it,
and keep Mrs. Hopkins till after the party—she
will be so useful.”

Mr. Harley could be calm no longer, and
exclaimed, “I will not keep her another week,
wife! I entirely disapprove her management.
She has already spent in the last three months
more than it ought to have cost us for a year.
I have overlooked her defects when they stared
me in the face — ay, and her thievish propensities

too, just to keep peace: only last
night, as I was passing through the kitchen, I
saw her give a large bundle to your new cook,
and, not knowing that I was in hearing, she
said, `Sally, take these things to the woman
who has care of your children: it will pay their
board for some time.' I was on the point of
speaking, but there is such a continual change
of help here, I thought I would keep still; but
now I am determined to act: she shall be instantly
dismissed, party or no party.”

Mrs. Harley burst into tears. The mere
thought of being obliged to oversee the house,
just as she wanted all her time to herself, was
what she could not endure. But Mr. Harley
could be firm, although he had often yielded
for the sake of quietness. He had had doubts
whether little John was properly attended;
and although he did not imagine that his wife
was out half as much as she really was, yet
the little fellow did not always look as neat
and bright as he would like to have him. His
wife, he knew, was dotingly fond of the child;
but he feared that too much attention was bestowed
upon her dress and appearance, and
that Dorcas was not enough watched. This

fear had preyed upon his mind for some time,
yet he had kept it wholly to himself.

Feeling just in the mood to utter all these
secret thoughts at this time, every suspicion
was divulged, and his entire disapprobation of
her past management was not a whit concealed.
He had seen far more than those in the
house imagined, and he had come to the conclusion
that a housekeeper must be possessed
of different qualities from those of Mrs. Hopkins
to make his home comfortable and prosperous.
He told his wife so, and asking her
how much they owed Mrs. Hopkins, which,
of course, she did not know, as she cared for
none of these matters, he asked her to inquire,
as he wished to pay and dismiss her that very
afternoon.

“Do, husband, let her stay till I get my dress.
What time shall I have to go out if you leave
me alone with Sally? She has not half the
faculty of Abigail with regard to work, Mrs.
Hopkins says, and what can I do?”

“Why, you had better shut up the house
and send Dorcas and John in to the neighbours',
than to keep such a deceitful, thievish creature,”
said Mr. Harley, warmly. “I will take care

myself of the affairs, if you do not, till we can
find assistance. I was talking with our neighbour
Mr. Cass last evening: he says he keeps
but two domestics with his large family, and
I am sure they live more comfortably than we
do with three. I really believe, my dear, we
have one too many, and I am disposed to live
without a housekeeper.”

“Then, of course, your wife must be a slave,”
said Mrs. Harley.

“Not so much of a slave as you imagine,”
said Mr. Harley; “for, between ourselves, I
think Mrs. Hopkins has kept us both in pretty
good subjection. I intend to pay her and send
her off this afternoon; and I charge you not to
have any private conversation with her, nor
even intimate that it is your wish she should
stay longer. I will aid you if you need any
assistance; we can live in a more simple way,
and it will be better for our health, as well as
our circumstances.” So saying, he walked to
the dining-room, where sat Mrs. Hopkins, busied,
as usual, about her own affairs.

Without preface or apology, in true business
style, Mr. Harley began:

“Mrs. Hopkins, how much am I indebted

to you? Whatever it is, I wish to discharge it,
as we have no farther occasion for your services.”

The housekeeper was thunderstruck; but,
conscious of her own demerit, she rather faintly
inquired “Why she was so abruptly turned
out of doors?”

Mr. Harley replied that “He wished to have
no conversation upon the subject; all he wanted
was to know the amount he owed her.”

Mrs. Hopkins and Mrs. Harley had kept a
sort of running account, or, rather, Mrs. Harley
had often let Mrs. Hopkins have a few dollars
at a time, and it being rather troublesome
to put it on a book, she had charged her memory
with it, and that proving very treacherous,
the result was that they were obliged to
abide by the housekeeper's statement, who
said that she had never had any money but
twice, making quite a sum for her still to receive,
as she had been housekeeper for two
dollars and a half a week for thirteen weeks,
she said. Incorrect as Mr. Harley believed
this statement to be, he could not refute it, as
he had kept no date of her entrance; and, therefore,
paying her without a word, though his

countenance clearly indicated his opinion, he
told her he would send a carriage to convey
her wherever she wished that afternoon.

Having the money safely in her own keeping,
and feeling that she should never get another
place equal to this, she cooled down her
wrath, and offered to stay for half that sum
until she had time to look about her for a situation;
“For,” she said, “that privilege is always
given to housekeepers.”

But Mr. Harley was not to be duped any
longer; he told her “That she had not half
earned the money he had given her, and she
could well afford to pay for her board till she
could obtain a place.”

Indignant in the extreme, Mrs. Hopkins proceeded
to the kitchen, and finding Sally an
easy subject to work upon, she told her of her
“unhandsome dismission,” and gave it as her
opinion that Sally had better look out for another
place as quick as possible, for under her
new mistress she would find things sadly altered.
She waited below till she heard Mr.
Harley close the door, and then proceeded to
pour her complaints, highly exaggerated, into
the ears of his wife, while she, with too little

independence to rebuke her, could only say,
“Well, well, Mrs. Hopkins, I cannot help it.”

Just before she left, the housekeeper gave
Dorcas, too, a sly wink, telling her “She would
find her a good place whenever she left this
hard one — one where she would be better
treated than to be dragged to death with that
child!”

Having thus set the whole house in a state
of fermentation, she departed. The first evidence
of her interference did not appear till
the next morning, when Sally, just after breakfast,
demanded her wages, saying she should
leave that morning.

Mrs. Harley immediately repaired to her
husband's store, and acquainted him with her
new trials, all of which she ascribed to sending
away the housekeeper. Mr. Harley was
just negotiating some business of importance,
and was not in a situation to be troubled with
home affairs. He only told his wife to pay
Sally and let her go, and said, if she went before
dinner, she might send to Julien's for one.
Mrs. Harley went home with a lightened heart.
It seemed to her that the plan of sending for
dinners already prepared was admirable; she

wondered that they had not thought of it before;
and mentally added, “I can get my dress
this afternoon if Sally does go away.”

Full of this determination, she entered the
house, when the first thing that met her eyes
was Dorcas crying. She knew not what to
make of it, as the child appeared sullen, and
would not answer her repeated question of
“What is the matter?” Sally, too, preferred
to go before dinner, as she had to remove one
of her children that afternoon, and must find
her a place that morning; all of which served
for a very good excuse, seeing there was no
foundation in the story.

Once more was Mrs. Harley left with Dorcas.
Resolving to discuss the matter in the
evening with her husband, she went, as she
had premeditated, that very afternoon, and ordered
the salmon-coloured velvet dress to be
sent home, with the bill, and purchased some
very expensive lace for the trimming of the
dress.

Upon returning, she found her husband annoyed
that she had left the house, especially
as Dorcas had made no preparation for tea,
having little disposition to please, since Mrs.

Hopkins had repeatedly told her she would
find her a better place. Just after Mrs. Harley's
entrance, the bell rang, and a boy left a
bundle: it was the dress and bill.

“Is it not beautiful, husband?” asked Mrs.
Harley, as she opened it; “the shade is divine!
How pretty it will light! and now the
next thing is to have it made. I must let these
house affairs go, and attend to it; it would be
a shame to have it spoiled.”

“My dear,” said Mr. Harley, “what shall
we have for tea?”

“Oh, dear! I am sure I don't know; let
Dorcas run and get a loaf of bread. Oh! this
everlasting din of cooking! I wish we were at
board.”

Mr. Harley had not yet found an opportunity
to tell his wife of a plan of his, she was
so much engaged in talking of her dress. It
was, to send to an adjoining town, where he
had a widowed aunt, who superintended a
gentleman's house, and see if he could persuade
her to take charge of his establishment.
Having at length disclosed his intention to his
wife, he found she did not altogether approve
of having a relation to take charge; still, in defiance

of her judgment, he wrote, making the
offer to his aunt, and saying that a liberal compensation
would be most gladly allowed for
her aid.

Mrs. Harley's thoughts being wedded to
her dress and party, made her almost regardless
of these changes. She only wanted deficiencies
supplied, and accordingly sent a note
to the office, telling them to send her a cook
without delay. It happened that Dinah Johnson,
a coloured woman, who had been many
years in service, was waiting for a direction
at the time when Dorcas went in with the
note. She was accordingly despatched with
the little girl to Mrs. Harley's as a cook.

Dinah was a stout, healthy woman, without
much experience in cookery, but a good house-servant,
if watched; as proof of which, she had
lived, she said, “with good Master Cummings
fifteen years, till the day of his death.”

Mrs. Harley was much pleased with Dinah's
appearance, and gave her immediate charge
of the kitchen. Mr. Harley did not know but
that she would do as well as anybody. He
thought he would observe her, and, provided
she did well, would keep her. Dinah told her

master she saw but one thing wanting—it was
a cooking-range. If she burned the meat, or
but half baked the bread, it was always because
she had been used to the range. So, to
remedy the insurmountable difficulties, a week
before the party a cooking-range was set.

Mr. Harley, in the mean time, received an
answer from his widowed aunt, saying that
she had laid the whole subject before Mr. Prout,
with whom she resided; and although he could
not think of parting from her entirely, yet she
could pass a month with her nephew, and, perhaps,
restore the order he wished.

Jethro Moody was now employed for the
sake of going on errands in preparation for
the party. But, to Mrs. Harley's utter astonishment,
the regrets came in much faster than
the acceptances. There was an excuse from
Colonel Lewis on account of “a previous engagement;”
Dr. Baxter pleaded “illness in his
family;” and numerous others “regretted it
was not in their power to accept Mrs. Harley's
polite invitation.” Chagrined beyond
measure, Mrs. Harley felt almost sorry she
had thought of giving a party. Nobody she
cared about would see her beautiful dress! Instead

of appearing in it for the first time in
her own house, she resolved to wear it to Mrs.
Howe's on the sixteenth. If so few of the élite
were going to accept her invitation, and those
only came who she had hoped would decline,
she concluded not to feel so ambitious about
it, and not to urge Mr. Harley to give a more
splendid entertainment than other people. That
evening they were to decide what would be
necessary, as the men who took charge of the
whole were waiting for directions.