Mistress and Maid | Page 7

There was no attempt at picturesque
poverty--for whatever novelists may say, poverty can not be
picturesque; but all things were decent and in order. The house, poor as
it was, gave the impression of belonging to "real ladies;" ladies who
thought no manner of work beneath them, and who, whatever they had
to do, took the pains to do it as well as possible.
Mrs. Hand's roughly-brought-up daughter had never been in such a
house before, and her examination of every new corner of it seemed
quite a revelation. Her own little sleeping nook was fully as tidy and
comfortable as the rest, which fact was not lost upon Elizabeth. That
bright look of mingled softness and intelligence--the only thing which
beautified her rugged face--came into the girl's eyes as she "turned
down" the truckle-bed, and felt the warm blankets and sheets, new and
rather coarse, but neatly sewed.
"Her's made 'em hersel', I reckon. La!" Which of her mistresses the
"her" referred to remained unspecified; but Elizabeth, spurred to action
by some new idea, went briskly back into the bedrooms, and looked
about to see if there was any thing she could find to do. At last, with a
sudden inspiration, she peered into a wash-stand, and found there an
empty ewer. Taking it in one hand and the candle in the other, she ran
down stairs.
Fatal activity! Hilary's pet cat, startled from sleep on the kitchen hearth,
at the same instant ran wildly up stairs; there was a start--a
stumble--and then down came the candle, the ewer, Elizabeth, and all.
It was an awful crash. It brought every member of the family to see
what was the matter.
"What has the girl broken?" cried Selina.
"Where has she hurt herself?" anxiously added Johanna.

Hilary said nothing, but ran for a light, and then picked up first the
servant, then the candle, and then the fragments of crockery.
"Why, it's my ewer, my favorite ewer, and it's all smashed to bits, and I
never can match it again. You careless, clumsy, good-for-nothing
creature!"
"Please, Selma," whispered her eldest sister.
"Very well, Johanna. You are the mistress, I suppose; why don't you
speak to your servant?"
Miss Leaf, in an humbled, alarmed way, first satisfied herself that no
bodily injury had been sustained by Elizabeth, and then asked her how
this disaster had happened? For a serious disaster she felt it was. Not
only was the present loss annoying, but a servant with a talent for
crockery breaking would be a far too expensive luxury for them to
think of retaining. And she had been listening in the solitude of the
parlor to a long lecture from her always dissatisfied younger sister, on
the great doubts Selina had about Elizabeth's "suiting."
"Come, now," seeing the girl hesitated, "tell me the plain truth. How
was it?"
"It was the cat," sobbed Elizabeth.
"What a barefaced falsehood." exclaimed Selina. "You wicked girl,
how could it possibly be the cat? Do you know that you are telling a lie,
and that lies are hateful, and that all liars go to--"
"Nonsense, hush!" interrupted Hilary, rather sharply; for Selina's
"tongue," the terror of her childhood, now merely annoyed her. Selina's
temper was a long understood household fact--they did not much mind
it, knowing that her bark was worse than her bite--but it was provoking
that she should exhibit herself so soon before the new servant.
The latter first looked up at the lady with simple surprise; then, as in
spite of the other two, Miss Selina worked herself up into a downright

passion, and unlimited abuse fell upon the victim's devoted head,
Elizabeth's manner changed. After one dogged repetition of, "It was the
cat!" not another word could be got out of her. She stood, her eyes
fixed on the kitchen floor, her brows knitted, and her under lip pushed
out--the very picture of sullenness. Young as she was, Elizabeth
evidently had, like her unfortunate mistress, "a temper of her own"--a
spiritual deformity that some people are born with, as others with
hare-lip or club-foot; only, unlike these, it may be conquered, though
the battle is long and sore, sometimes ending only with life.
It had plainly never commenced with poor Elizabeth Hand. Her
appearance, as she stood under the flood of sharp words poured out
upon her, was absolutely repulsive. Even Miss Hilary turned away, and
began to think it would have been easier to teach all day and do house
work half the night, than have the infliction of a servant--to say nothing
of the disgrace of seeing Selina's "peculiarities" so exposed before a
stranger.
She knew of old that to stop the torrent was impracticable. The only
chance was to let Selina expend her wrath and retire, and then to take
some