Chapter XV (2)

Just as we had got near home, and I was thinking how nice and envious that sweet woman, Mrs. Lockley, would be, when she found poor us living in such superior style to herself, and that we kept two male servants instead of her little poking twopenny-half-penny one--lo, and behold! all of a sudden, I saw a large crowd of little dirty boys collected in a ring across the road, right opposite our house. By the noise of the drums, I knew it was a sight, and I hurried along as fast as ever I could, for I do like to see them. As we approached, I heard the voice of one of those stupid street conjurors crying out as loud as he could, that as soon as there was ninepence in the ring, he would cut off some poor young gentleman’s head. So I told that sweet woman, Mrs. Lockley, to come along for heaven’s sake, or we shouldn’t be in time; and on we toddled together as fast as my legs would carry me. On looking up at our house, I declare if there wasn’t that stupid, stupid cook, and that lazy minx of a housemaid lolling out of one of the windows of my bedroom, and that John Duffy out of the other. I merely shook my parasol at them then, and went as near as I could to see the stupid nonsense. When I caught sight of the boy in the ring, who had come forward to allow himself to be beheaded, positively if it wasn’t that abominable, wicked, incorrigible young imp of a Wittals of mine, who, having seen the trick done some hundred of times before, and knowing very well that the ninepence never yet had been made up, was delighted at being a party to the stupid imposition, which, I dare say, he thought a capital joke. No sooner did I set eyes upon him, out there in the middle of the dusty road, in my beautiful claret and silver (only just newly renovated too), with his best hat down on the ground, and all the neighbours at the windows, laughing away at the gratifying idea of the Sk--n--st--n’s grand page making such a scamp of himself--no sooner, I repeat, did I set eyes upon the disreputable young rip, than at him I rushed, right through the little boys. But directly he caught sight of me, on went his hat, with all the coppers that had been collected in it, a-top of his head, and off he scampered, and I after him, parasol in hand, as hard as I could go, while after me came all the little dirty boys, hurraying and hooting, and hollowing out “Go it, missus,”--“Go it, tiger,” until--finding I couldn’t catch that Wittals--I turned round, and began laying my parasol about the noisy and impudent young vagabonds at my heels. And then, oh, la! the nasty young dogs! what must they do but begin pelting me with mud and all kinds of filth, right over my beautiful lace bonnet and love of a poplin dress--salmon shot snuff,--and kept on at it, even on my own door step, whilst I was jerking away at the bell and hammering away at the knocker, trying to get that big fat elephant of a Duffy to saunter up to the door before I was one positive cake of mud from head to foot--for, drat those boys! the more I ran after them, the more they pelted me.

When I went to the parlour window, to shake my fist at the young urchins, who wouldn’t go away from the house, but kept on hooting outside as hard as they could, who should I see on the other side of the way, laughing fit to burst all her hooks and eyes, but that vulgar woman, Mrs. Lockley, drat her! whom I, like a great big silly, had brought up to see the superior style in which we lived. Well, there always was something about the creature I didn’t exactly like!

When I told dear, dear Edward of all that happened, and how that Wittals had been going on the very day after I had consented to receive him back to my service, he very justly said, that he wasn’t at all surprised at anything that young vagabond did, for he was impudent as a London sparrow, and he had been quite sickened of him by his tricks at his office; in fact, he knew there was no getting the good-for-nothing scapegrace to do a thing. For instance, if he wanted a simple letter copied, and called out to him, “Wittals, what have you got in hand just now?” the scamp would be sure to answer, “An apple, please sir,” or something just as aggravating. So Edward advised me, that the best thing I could do was to go down to the workhouse, and try and get them to take the boy back, which he was sure they would for a few pounds, if the case was properly represented to them. But I pretty soon told my gentleman that I was sure they would do no such thing (and if they would, I wouldn’t). For, to tell the truth, now that I had got two male servants in the house, I

wasn’t going to sink down to one again in a hurry; and, bother take it! to have to go ill again, may be, or leave my stingy Mr. Edward a second time--“_for ever!_” perhaps, before I could get him to let me have another. Besides, that great big lazy porpoise of a Mr. Duffy, was always grumbling about having to clean a few trumpery boots and knives, and talking about the families of quality he had lived in--(I never saw such quality!) where he had been accustomed to have a lad under him--so, all things considered, I really couldn’t bring my heart to turn a poor orphan like that monkey of a Wittals into the cold streets, and, accordingly with my usual good nature, made up my mind to keep the pair of them--at least until their liveries were fairly worn out.

Upon my word, at times, I was sorry that I hadn’t taken Edward’s advice, for _that_ Wittals made Duffy no better, and _that_ Duffy only made Wittals much worse. Now, I dare say, the reader will imagine that, with two male servants in the house, and little or nothing for them to do, I might at least have got so much as a simple bell answered; but, oh dear, no! I might pull and pull as though I was up in a filthy belfry pulling my arms off for a leg of mutton and trimmings; and yet, there Mr. Duffy would sit, roasting his fat calves before the fire, as unconcerned as a mute at a street door--with his precious “Oh, ah! let ’em ring again!”--while that idle vagabond of a Mr. Wittals sat stock still, with both his hands stuffed into the pockets of his mulberry pantaloons, as if they were made of cast iron, and grinning away, as though he thought it a capital joke to trifle with my feelings. Then, positively, too, if that Duffy didn’t go and so inoculate that Wittals with his nasty, familiar ways, that, as for getting any respect out of the pair of them, Lord bless you! one might just as well have looked for civility from a cabman after paying him his legal fare. If I happened to meet either of them in the street, not so much as a touch of the hat could they treat me to; and do what I would, I could no more get them to put ‘Mam’ at the end of their sentences when they spoke to me, than if they had been a couple of clerks at a railway station. First, I should have that Wittals speaking of my little angel of a Catherine, as “Kitty,” to my very face, though I had told him, over and over again, that the cherub’s name was Miss Sk--n--st--n, and begged of him not to let me hear him ‘Kitty’ her again, if he wanted to stop in my house; but, as the monkey knew very well that I couldn’t turn him out of it, of course he didn’t care two pins about what I said. Then I should have that great fat Duffy coming strolling into the parlour as slow as an omnibus half full, and asking, “How many we should be to dinner to-day?”--putting me in such a passion with his “We’s” (as if he was one of the family), that I used to say, “_We!_ whom do you mean by _we_, I should like to know, sir? I and your master will dine at home to-day, and that’s the only _we_ I am acquainted with in this house; though, perhaps, by your _we’s_, you’d like to sit down to the table with us--and, I’m sure, I shouldn’t be at all surprised if you did, for you certainly seem to me always to forget who you are, and what you are, and where you came from.”

But where was the good of wasting one’s breath upon a great fat lazy pig, that was dead to every moral as well as religious tie? Now, I think I have told the reader somewhere in my interesting little work, that one of my principal inducements in getting Edward to consent to my keeping a footman, was the standing it gives one, in this, alas! empty world, to have a fine handsome man-servant in an elegant showy livery to carry your prayer books behind you to church, and to come up to your pew and fetch than again after divine service, (which, thank goodness, I can safely lay my head on my pillow at night, and say, that ever since I have kept house, and had an example to set my servants, I have always made a point of attending--unless, indeed, I have known that one of those beggarly collections was going to take place at the doors.) Well! as I was going to say, upon my word, I had much better have taken no footman to church at all, as that heathen of a Duffy; for as soon as we stood up for the first hymn, and I turned round to observe how his livery looked among the congregated footmen, and whether he was paying a proper attention to his religious duties or not, there I should be certain to see him, directly he caught my eye, take his hat, and putting his handkerchief to his nose, to make believe it was bleeding, sneak down the aisle on tiptoe; and I should never clap eyes on the livery again until church was all over, when I should have him coming back smelling of beer and tobacco, enough to knock the whole congregation down--though where on earth he could have got it from, was more than I and our policeman could ever make out.

Was ever a poor dear married lady so tormented in all her life? _That_ Duffy was bad enough, as the reader can plainly see now; but _that_ Wittals was ten times worse, as the reader shall see presently. Now, _par examp_ (as we say at _Bologne-sur-mere_,) dear--dear--_dear_ uncle R--msb--tt--m, like a good generous old soul as he is, would go sending up to that cherub of a Kitty of mine, a beautiful little love of a pet lamb, that had the most heavenly fore and hind quarters I think I ever beheld in all my born days; and it was so nice and fat that it quite made my mouth water to look at it--even alive. Still it was so fond and tame, and that darling ducks-o’-diamonds of a Kitty of mine was so pleased with her tiddy-ickle bar-lam as she used to call it--bless her little eyes! (please excuse a fond mother’s feelings, gentle reader,)--that, though I couldn’t look at the animal without thinking of mint sauce, and the animal cost me near upon a shilling a week for bread, and milk, and turnips, yet I thought as dear good uncle R--msb--tt--m had sent it up, and as he was Kitty’s godfather, and had neither chick nor child, and was actually rolling in money (if I might be allowed so strong an expression) I thought, I say, he might be offended, if it came to his ears that we had eaten the darling little pet for dinner, immediately after its arrival in town. So we put a sweet pretty blue sarsnet ribbon round its fat neck, and kept it in the garden by day, and the knife house by night, till really the thing’s bed-chamber “foohed” so, that it was enough to knock you down. The worst of it was, too, that do what we would, we could not keep the little love’s white coat clean in this grubby “metropolis of the world,” though we scoured it well at least once a week in our own foot-bath; for directly after we had washed it, and put it out in the garden again, down would come the smuts so thick, that in less than half-an-hour one would have fancied the natural colour of the poppet’s coat was pepper and salt; and what used to put me in such a passion was, if I went out in the garden of an evening, in my sweet white muslin skirt and black velvet body to fondle the dingy little brute, it _would_ get _so_ affectionate, I declare, and _would_ come rubbing up against my flounces, until they looked as black as a coal heaver’s stockings on a Saturday. But what annoyed me more than all was--bother take the thing!--it would grow so fast, that, though I must have wasted at least a gallon of gin in trying to stop its growth, still it was all of no use, and I only kept making the creature so tipsy, that it would prance about like a mad thing, and half frighten me out of my life. Pet lambs are one thing, but the idea of going and bestowing your affections on a great hulking sheep with horns long enough to poke both your eyes out, was what I had no notion of doing. Plague take that cruel Wittals too! no sooner had he set foot in the house, and seen this new member of the family, than his great delight used to be to catch hold of the poor thing by the two horns, directly they began to grow, one in each hand, and keep pushing the animal backwards and forwards until really he made the beast as savage as a tiger, and taught it to butt so, that upon my word it would run at you with its head down, for all the world like one of those stupid Cornish wrestlers. As for that fat coward of a Duffy, positively he was so afraid of what in his stupid country dialect he called the “wicked mutton,” that I couldn’t for the life of me get the fellow to go near the poor thing; and if Wittals hadn’t been there, it must have stopped out every night, and may be died of rheumatism from sleeping out on the damp grass, instead of in a comfortable warm knife-house. So matters went on, until Kitty’s little pet got to be a great waddling monster of a sheep, and only grew more and more savage from being always tied up to our apple tree, and fatter and fatter from want of exercise, while all the time mutton kept getting higher and higher, from I don’t know what, until at last it seemed to me a shameful sin to go wasting good wholesome turnips, at three bunches for fippence, on such a creature, when one of its legs would eat so beautifully, boiled, with some of _those very_ turnips.

Well! like a thrifty housewife as I am, I had half made up my mind to have one of the great hulking pet’s haunches, with red currant jelly, for dinner the next Sunday, while it was nice and young and tender, when dear mother luckily called in to see me, and I thought I would consult with her on the subject. On going to the window, to show her what prime condition the darling was in, I declare, if the brute hadn’t got away from the apple tree, and wasn’t right in my flower-bed, making a hearty meal off the few double stocks and sweet-williams I had in my garden, and which I prided myself so much upon, and the Simmonds’s were so jealous of. I gave a slight scream, and rang the bell for that dare-devil of a Wittals, knowing that it was no good looking for any assistance from that chicken-hearted stupid of a Duffy. But, of course, Wittals, as is always the case when he’s wanted, had slipped out after some more of that sticky sweet-stuff, which I’m continually obliged to be taking away from him, and eating myself, to prevent him from spoiling his livery. So, as I couldn’t stand still and see my beautiful sweet-williams eaten up before my very eyes, I ran down the garden steps, and catching hold of the end of the rope, tried to drag the woolly cannibal back to the apple tree. But no sooner did I tug the wretch away from the flowers, than off it set scampering round and round me, until, I declare, it wound the cord all about my poor legs, for all the world as if I had been a peg-top and it meant to send me spinning--which sure enough, whether he meant it or not, it did. For, directly it got my feet bound fast together with the rope, so that I couldn’t stir an inch, “the wicked mutton,” as Mr. Duffy called it, rushed full butt at me, and immediately up went my legs, and down I came bump on the grass, with a force that I felt for months afterwards. I set to screaming directly as loud as I could for Mother and Duffy, and kicking with all my might,--for, my legs being tied, I, of course, couldn’t get up, and there was the savage brute poking away with its horns, like the prongs of a pitchfork, at the cotton tops of my silk stockings. At last, just as I’d got my poor feet free from the rope by my continued kickings, thank goodness! I heard the garden door slam to, and knew, by Duffy’s puffing and blowing, and Mother’s “pshewing” away like a rocket, that assistance was at hand. But, alas! no sooner did the rampant beast catch sight of that Duffy’s red plush thingomybobs, than, attracted by the colour I suppose, off it scampered towards the porpoise; and no sooner did that coward of a Duffy catch sight of the rampant beast coming full gallop towards him, than he let fall, with fright, the broom he had come armed with to my help, and taking to his fat legs, ran round the garden, blowing like an asthmatic grampus, with the wicked mutton tearing after him like a woolly maniac. Just as he had got within a yard or so of me, and I had managed to raise myself on my hands and knees, oh! lud-a-mercy me! the savage brute rushed full butt at him behind with such force, that the great fat hulking monster cried out, “O--oo!” and was pitched sprawling right on to my poor back, and down I went again, flop, with such force, that if the fellow--though no sylph--hadn’t been as plump and soft as a feather bed, I do verily believe I should have been taken up a human pancake, and had to have been buried in one of the cracks in Dover cliffs, or some such horrible out-of-the-way place.

Poor dear respected mother--who up to this moment had been very prudent, and never left the garden-steps--the very minute she saw that fat Duffy a-top of me, and that “wicked mutton” jumping with all its might a-top of Duffy, rushed down to our rescue, shaking her handkerchief, like a stupid old thing as she is--for she ought, at _her_ time of life, to have known that it would only have made the infuriated brute wilder than ever. And so to her cost it did; for no sooner did the animal see her, than at her it ran, and, just as she got close to our beautiful large variegated holly-bush, it gave such a poke at her busk, that back the dear respected old soul went, right into the middle of the horrid prickly shrub, and there the nasty brute stood, butting away at her, and pushing her further and further into the bush, until, what with the agony of the sharp prickles at her back, and the fear of the furious animal’s horns in front, I declare the poor dear old thing screamed in such a way, that it cut me to the quick to be obliged--when I’d kicked and tumbled that mountain of a Duffy off my back--to fly for my own life, and turn a deaf ear, not only to her heart-rending cries, but also to her pathetic entreaties to bring either the kitchen poker or the spit, and drive the mad beast from her. And well can I understand her screaming now, for when that monkey of a Wittals came in again, and he’d got my dear respected mother out of the holly-bush, upon my word, if the poor old soul’s back wasn’t pierced all over with the fine-pointed prickly things, and as full of little holes as a captain’s biscuit!--and no wonder; for, as luck would have it, she’d got on my thin fine Swiss cambric dress, which, having been quite spoilt, drat it! at the washing, I had kindly made her a present of on her last birth-day.

Any gentle reader, in her proper senses, may readily suppose that after this I wasn’t long in giving that over-grown coward of a Duffy notice to quit. Of course I didn’t see the fun of keeping a man to walk after me as a protection who was frightened out of his wits by a trumpery “wicked mutton,” which a mere whiskerless brat could take by the horns whenever he liked. But no sooner had I told the good-for-nothing that he would be pleased to leave my service that day month, than I declare if he didn’t turn round and tell me to my very face, “that he would do so with all the pleasure in life,” saying, “it was a place to take the very life out of a man” (I think so, indeed, with only two in family, and little or no plate to clean); and that he never knew what work was before in all his life (pretty work, indeed!--a couple of trumpery tea-cups to wash up of a morning, and a page to help him); so he actually had the impudence to think I had better pay him his month, and let him leave the wretched slavery that very minute, or else he knew he should have to take to his bed with illness, for he shouldn’t be able to put out his hand to do a thing shortly from overwork, and then I should have to nurse him. Nurse him, indeed! Should I?--when all the time I knew it was only a mere make-believe to cheat me out of a month’s wages. Augh! I do detest people that pretend they’re ill just to gain their own selfish ends!

Accordingly I gave my delicate elephant to understand that he’d get no month’s wages out of me, unless I first got a month’s work out of him, to which my gentleman merely answered, between his teeth, “He’d see about that;” and he said it in such a nasty, spiteful way, that convinced me he meant something horrible. Sure enough so he did; for when I rang the bell for him to bring up the tray, to lay the things for dinner, I all of a sudden heard the most tremendous crash, as if ten thousand chimney-pots had fallen through two thousand skylights. I rushed to the top of the kitchen stairs, and cried out, “Good heavens, Duffy! what’s that?” when I declare if he hadn’t the coolness to answer, “It’s only me, mum, a breaking the plates and dishes.” I tore down to the pantry, and told him I’d have him punished; and then, of course, it was, his “foot had slipped, and I couldn’t punish him for a mere accident.” “Accident, indeed!” I said to myself, as I marched up stairs again, “oh, yes! it’s one of those many precious accidents which, even in the best regulated families, are done on purpose.” But, what could I do? I knew the spiteful good-for-nothing lout would swear till he was black in the face that his foot _did_ slip; and how was poor I to prove to the contrary?

I declare the man went on so, that I soon saw I should be several pounds in pocket by paying the fellow what he wanted, and getting him out of the house as soon as possible. Now, there were my beautiful cut glass decanters, (which belonged to Mr. Sk--n--st--n’s poor dear first wife,) well, nothing would suit my gentleman, but he must go washing them in scalding hot water, and then, pretending to be astonished because they went crack, flying in every direction. But, of course, that was the fault of the glass, and none of his--oh, no! Then, again, too, the revengeful monkey must go wiping all the dirty knives with my very best glass cloths, which I had bought new expressly for him, until they were as full of cuts and gashes as poor dear father’s shoes when he’s got the gout. And, positively, do what I would, I could not prevent him from cleaning his shoes in my dress livery, until, what with the blacking and his carelessness, upon my word, his red plush thingomys were all over black spots, like the back of a ladybird, and his beautiful white coat as grubby as the outside of St. Paul’s. As for making the monkey stir of a morning, too, I declare it was no use trying, for though I commenced ringing at six o’clock, to a minute, and kept on pulling away--determined that if the fat, lazy sloth wouldn’t get up to see about my breakfast, at least he shouldn’t have another wink of sleep,--yet I couldn’t for the life of me get him to come up for the keys till near upon eight o’clock at the earliest; though how on earth the pig ever managed to snore through it all was a wonder to me, for it struck me it must be very like trying to take a nap in a belfry on the coronation day. But on going into my gentleman’s room, one fine morning, upon my word, if the fat, lazy, cunning fox hadn’t crammed one of his nasty, dirty stockings into the mouth of the bell, until I declare it wouldn’t speak any more than a married lady in the sulks. So, really and truly, when I came to think of it, was it worth while for a trumpery month’s wages to let the fellow remain in the house till all my glass and crockery were broken to shivers, and my beautiful queen’s-pattern plated coffee-pot, with silver edges, was all battered in, as horribly as the pewter quart measure at a fruit-stall. Accordingly, I made the best of a bad bargain, and packed the scoundrel out of the house, telling him not to expect a character from me. When he had gone, and I examined his livery to see whether by any manner of means I could have it cleaned for my next footman, I give the reader my word and honour, if the fat savage hadn’t been wiping on the skirts of my beautiful white coat the dirty pens with which he’d been answering the advertisements in the _Times_, and all the left sleeve was streaked over with ink, till it had as many black marks upon it as a mackerel’s back.

As for that Wittals, there was no bearing with _him_ either; for bad as he was before, I declare if that Duffy hadn’t so inoculated him with all the airs of a grown-up footman, that, upon my word, he seemed to think it a positive disgrace to work for his living. So I told him, very quietly, I had been turning it over in my mind, and if he had any wish to better himself, I should be very happy to exert myself to find him an excellent situation, and make it a moral duty to give him a good character, which, I said, he knew as well as I did, he didn’t deserve. And nicely I caught it for my kindness, after all; for, bother take it! he went on so shamefully in his new place, that I declare if his brute of a master didn’t begin an action against us, for _giving a servant a false character_; and we had to compromise it by paying goodness knows how much!

However, I determined that this should be a lesson to me not to give any more good characters in a hurry, but to speak the truth in future. So, when that Duffy, who was out of place again six months, came to me, as thin as a German umbrella, and as meek as a pew-opener, to hope that I would look over what had past, and say a good word for him, I told him pretty plainly, “Oh, yea! I’d speak for him, and do him perfect justice, he might rest assured.” Accordingly, I just gave a plain, unvarnished statement of all his goings on, and shameful pilferings, when, of course, the party refused to have anything at all to do with him. And then, bother take it, if _he_ didn’t get some pettifogging lawyer to bring an action against us for libel (truth is a libel, Edward says)--so that, positively, this time we had to pay goodness knows how much more again for _giving a servant a true character_--drat it!

This very naturally convinced me that the only safe way of acting was to refuse to give any character at all to servants. Accordingly, when that stupid, stupid cook--whom I’d little or no fault to find with, excepting that she was so taken up with Wittals and Duffy that I thought it best to give her notice to go when they did, lest she should set the new servants against their place--accordingly, I say, when she wished to know when it would suit me to see the lady with whom she was going to live, I told her that she needn’t think of sending any of her ladies to me, for I had made up my mind not to say _one_ word about her conduct either one way or the other. And then--drat that common law, which Mr. Edward will have is the perfection of common sense--we had another plaguy action brought against us, and had a third time to pay as much as would have bought us two beautiful opera pit tickets for the season, for taking the bread out of a person’s mouth, and _refusing to give a servant any character at all_.

This little insight into human nature, made me so disgusted with servants, and taught me that they were such a bad, worthless, ungrateful set, that of course I showed very little consideration for their trumpery feelings afterwards, and I kept bundling them out of the house, one after another so quickly, that I had them coming in and going out as fast as the people at the Bank of England on a dividend-day. But after a year or so of this continual changing, Mr. Edward did get _so_ fidgety, and to tell the truth, I myself got _so_ sick of writing answers to those stupid advertisements of “Want Places,” and spending a whole fortune in postage-stamps, for a pack of letters to your “GOOD PLAIN COOKS,” and “STEADY, ACTIVE, YOUNG MEN, who have no objection to travel,” (I dare say they haven’t--and no more should I have, for the matter of that, if any one would pay my expenses for me,) that, upon my word, at last I thought it might save me a world of bother, if--as the creatures were always grumbling at being over-worked in my establishment--I paid some attention to what they said for once in a way, and allowed them to have another pair of hands to help them. And then, odds-bobs and buttercups! directly I had been great silly enough to listen to the complaints of one of them, of course all the others expected I should do as much for them!

First, the nursery-maid, owing to the increase of my family, (for I went on blessing Edward with another little tiddy-ickle-petsy-wetsy of a beautiful baby--with, thank heaven, all its dear little limbs right and straight--regularly every eighteen months)--first, the nursery-maid, I repeat, found it impossible to mind so many young children without an under one to assist her. And when I, like a ninny, had coaxed Edward to allow her to have what she wanted, then, of course, the housemaid (directly we had an extra story put on to our villa, from sheer want of bed-rooms) must find out that the house was too large for her to attend to single-handed, so _she_ must needs want an under one as well. Well, when I had wheedled Mr. Edward into that too--for as he very beautifully and philosophically said, throwing up his hands and tearing his hair, “Oh, anything you like, for peace and quiet”--then the cook must walk into the parlour and tell me, that we were so many in family now, and there were so many dinners to cook--one for the nursery, one for the kitchen, and one for the parlour--that really the plates and dishes were more than one person’s time to wash up, and she was sure her constitution would give way under it unless she had a scullery-maid to help her. So then, I had to carney, and fondle, and flatter _that_ Edward for days, and when that wouldn’t do, to get out of temper and sulk for weeks with him together, in order to let the poor cook have a maid under _her_, too, in the kitchen. But, then, the worst of it was, that what with the upper nursery maid and the under nurserymaid--the upper housemaid and the under housemaid--the cook and the scullery maid--and the footman and the page into the bargain--positively, I had our poking villa so full of servants, that we were as short of beds as a country town during the assizes: and, as our lease had still fifteen years to run, and since, owing to that bothering, rattling railway at the back of us, we couldn’t get anybody to take it off our hands, and as--plague take those maids--I could _not_ get them to sleep three in a tester anyhow, why, drat it, there we had to go putting another and another story to our residence, till I declare our villa looked like an old Jew with three hats on.

However, if I must tell the truth, I didn’t object to this so much after all; for I felt that the great, big, grand house, we had now got over our heads, and the large retinue of servants we had at our backs, did give us such a position in this empty world, and such a footing in hollow-hearted society, that--notwithstanding Mr. Edward was always telling me, I and my servants were driving him into the Queen’s Bench as fast as he could gallop, or even a National Theatre could take him--still for the sake of my four poor dear children, and those yet to come, I determined not to give way--even so much as a scullery maid--no! not if I had to be afflicted with a violent neuralgia again--or even St. Vitus’s dance in the height of summer, for it.

But I was far from being as happy in the midst of all this grandeur as I had, like a stupid girl as I am, foolishly expected; for no sooner had I got eight servants dangling at my heels, than, lud-a-mussy-me! if I could get as much attention or as much peace and quiet as when I had only one--a mere servant of all work--to wait upon me. If I wanted anything done, positively, it didn’t seem to be anybody’s place to do it. For instance, let me tell the footman to sweep up a few crumbs from under the table, of course it wasn’t _his_ place--but he’d send the housemaid; then let me tell the housemaid to bring up some more coals, of course it wasn’t _her_ place--but she’d send the footman. If I told the upper nurserymaid to make me a little warm water-gruel, for my little angel’s bottle (love its sweet eyes!) oh dear me, no! even this was too much, it wasn’t _her_ place--but she’d tell the under one. If I went down stairs, too, to see about dinner, and just asked the cook to wash a trumpery basin for me--bless you! she couldn’t think of soiling her delicate hands with a dish-clout; no! it wasn’t _her_ place--but she’d tell the scullery-maid. Augh! the lazy, good-for-nothing pack of leeches! And what did they think _was_ their place, then, I should like to know? I can tell them what _I_ think their place was! and that’s--a very snug berth, with little or nothing to do, but to try their hardest to eat me out of house and home--and _that’s_ what it was.