Penelopes English Experiences | Page 6

DeWolfe in so timid a tone that I know Parker thinks me the
parlour- maid's sister who has rung the visitors' bell by mistake. If my
lady is within, I follow Parker to the drawing-room, my knees shaking
under me at the prospect of committing some solecism in his sight.
Lady DeWolfe's husband has been noble only four months, and Parker
of course knows it, and perhaps affects even greater hauteur to divert
the attention of the vulgar commoner from the newness of the title.
Dawson, our butler at Smith's private hotel, wields the same blighting
influence on our spirits, accustomed to the soft solicitations of the
negro waiter or the comfortable indifference of the free-born American.
We never indulge in ordinary democratic or frivolous conversation
when Dawson is serving us at dinner. We 'talk up' to him so far as we
are able, and before we utter any remark we inquire mentally whether
he is likely to think it good form. Accordingly, I maintain throughout
dinner a lofty height of aristocratic elegance that impresses even the
impassive Dawson, towards whom it is solely directed. To the
amazement and amusement of Salemina (who always takes my cheerful
inanities at their face value), I give an hypothetical account of my
afternoon engagements, interlarding it so thickly with countesses and
marchionesses and lords and honourables that though Dawson has
passed soup to duchesses, and scarcely ever handed a plate to anything
less than a baroness, he dilutes the customary scorn of his glance, and
makes it two parts condescending approval as it rests on me, Penelope
Hamilton, of the great American working class (unlimited).
Apropos of the servants, it seems to me that the British footman has
relaxed a trifle since we were last here; or is it possible that he reaches
the height of his immobility at the height of the London season, and as

it declines does he decline and become flesh? At all events, I have
twice seen a footman change his weight from one leg to the other, as he
stood at a shop entrance with his lady's mantle over his arm; twice have
I seen one stroke his chin, and several times have I observed others,
during the month of July, conduct themselves in many respects like
animate objects with vital organs. Lest this incendiary statement be
challenged, levelled as it is at an institution whose stability and order
are but feebly represented by the eternal march of the stars in their
courses, I hasten to explain that in none of these cases cited was it a
powdered footman who (to use a Delsartean expression) withdrew will
from his body and devitalised it before the public eye. I have observed
that the powdered personage has much greater control over his muscles
than the ordinary footman with human hair, and is infinitely his
superior in rigidity. Dawson tells me confidentially that if a footman
smiles there is little chance of his rising in the world. He says a sense of
humour is absolutely fatal in that calling, and that he has discharged
many a good footman because of an intelligent and expressive face.
I tremble to think of what the powdered footman may become when he
unbends in the bosom of the family. When, in the privacy of his own
apartments, the powder is washed off, the canary-seed pads removed
from his aristocratic calves, and his scarlet and buff magnificence
exchanged for a simple neglige, I should think he might be guilty of
almost any indiscretion or violence. I for one would never consent to be
the wife and children of a powdered footman, and receive him in his
moments of reaction.
Chapter III.
Eggs a la coque.

Is it to my credit, or to my eternal dishonour that I once made a
powdered footman smile, and that, too, when he was handing a buttered
muffin to an earl's daughter?
It was while we were paying a visit at Marjorimallow Hall, Sir Owen

and Lady Marjorimallow's place in Surrey. This was to be our first
appearance in an English country house, and we made elaborate
preparations. Only our freshest toilettes were packed, and these were
arranged in our trunks with the sole view of impressing the lady's-maid
who should unpack them. We each purchased dressing- cases and new
fittings, Francesca's being of sterling silver, Salemina's of triple plate,
and mine of celluloid, as befitted our several fortunes. Salemina read up
on English politics; Francesca practised a new way of dressing her hair;
and I made up a portfolio of sketches. We counted, therefore, on
representing American letters, beauty, and art to that portion of the
great English public staying at Marjorimallow Hall. (I must interject a
parenthesis here to the effect that matters did not move precisely as we