Novel Notes | Page 4

describes MacShaughnassy exactly. He does seem to know a
tremendous lot. He is possessed of more information than any man I
ever came across. Occasionally, it is correct information; but, speaking
broadly, it is remarkable for its marvellous unreliability. Where he gets
it from is a secret that nobody has ever yet been able to fathom.
Ethelbertha was very young when we started housekeeping. (Our first
butcher very nearly lost her custom, I remember, once and for ever by
calling her "Missie," and giving her a message to take back to her
mother. She arrived home in tears. She said that perhaps she wasn't fit
to be anybody's wife, but she did not see why she should be told so by
the tradespeople.) She was naturally somewhat inexperienced in
domestic affairs, and, feeling this keenly, was grateful to any one who
would give her useful hints and advice. When MacShaughnassy came
along he seemed, in her eyes, a sort of glorified Mrs. Beeton. He knew
everything wanted to be known inside a house, from the scientific
method of peeling a potato to the cure of spasms in cats, and
Ethelbertha would sit at his feet, figuratively speaking, and gain enough
information in one evening to make the house unlivable in for a month.
He told her how fires ought to be laid. He said that the way fires were
usually laid in this country was contrary to all the laws of nature, and
he showed her how the thing was done in Crim Tartary, or some such
place, where the science of laying fires is alone properly understood.

He proved to her that an immense saving in time and labour, to say
nothing of coals, could be effected by the adoption of the Crim Tartary
system; and he taught it to her then and there, and she went straight
downstairs and explained it to the girl.
Amenda, our then "general," was an extremely stolid young person, and,
in some respects, a model servant. She never argued. She never seemed
to have any notions of her own whatever. She accepted our ideas
without comment, and carried them out with such pedantic precision
and such evident absence of all feeling of responsibility concerning the
result as to surround our home legislation with quite a military
atmosphere.
On the present occasion she stood quietly by while the
MacShaughnassy method of fire-laying was expounded to her. When
Ethelbertha had finished she simply said:--
"You want me to lay the fires like that?"
"Yes, Amenda, we'll always have the fires laid like that in future, if you
please."
"All right, mum," replied Amenda, with perfect unconcern, and there
the matter ended, for that evening.
On coming downstairs the next morning we found the breakfast table
spread very nicely, but there was no breakfast. We waited. Ten minutes
went by--a quarter of an hour--twenty minutes. Then Ethelbertha rang
the bell. In response Amenda presented herself, calm and respectful.
"Do you know that the proper time for breakfast is half-past eight,
Amenda?"
"Yes'm."
"And do you know that it's now nearly nine?"
"Yes'm."

"Well, isn't breakfast ready?"
"No, mum."
"Will it ever be ready?"
"Well, mum," replied Amenda, in a tone of genial frankness, "to tell
you the truth, I don't think it ever will."
"What's the reason? Won't the fire light?"
"Oh yes, it lights all right."
"Well, then, why can't you cook the breakfast?"
"Because before you can turn yourself round it goes out again."
Amenda never volunteered statements. She answered the question put
to her and then stopped dead. I called downstairs to her on one occasion,
before I understood her peculiarities, to ask her if she knew the time.
She replied, "Yes, sir," and disappeared into the back kitchen. At the
end of thirty seconds or so, I called down again. "I asked you,
Amenda," I said reproachfully, "to tell me the time about ten minutes
ago."
"Oh, did you?" she called back pleasantly. "I beg your pardon. I
thought you asked me if I knew it--it's half-past four."
Ethelbertha inquired--to return to our fire--if she had tried lighting it
again.
"Oh yes, mum," answered the girl. "I've tried four times." Then she
added cheerfully, "I'll try again if you like, mum."
Amenda was the most willing servant we ever paid wages to.
Ethelbertha said she would step down and light the fire herself, and told
Amenda to follow her and watch how she did it. I felt interested in the
experiment, and followed also. Ethelbertha tucked up her frock and set

to work. Amenda and I stood around and looked on.
At the end of half an hour Ethelbertha retired from the contest, hot,
dirty, and a trifle irritable. The fireplace retained the same cold, cynical
expression with which it had greeted our entrance.
Then