Phebe, Her Profession Part 35

"You look it, Ted; but cheer up. What's the matter?"

"Plus a publisher; minus a maid," she answered enigmatically.

"Explain yourself."

"I shouldn't think I needed to. The bare fact is sufficient."

"Yes; but I am dense."

"Well, you knew Hannah had given warning, and now Delia is going, and I expect to take to the kitchen for a s.p.a.ce."

"Where's Patrick?"

"If that isn't man all over! Patrick is a treasure and good for almost everything in the line of work; but I never discovered that he could cook succulently. I should live through that crisis, William; but there is a worse one. Mr. Gilwyn is going to lecture here, next week, and he will expect us to entertain him."

"What of it? We can buy things."

"Yes, William, and we must also cook things. He has never been here, and much depends upon the impression I create on his inner man. My book will be ready to send in before long; and, if I give him dyspepsia in his stomach, it will surely mount to his brain and lead him to reject my _magnum opus_."

"Your which? Cicely, can you translate her remarks?"

"Ask Melchisedek. He devoured Allyn's Latin grammar, day before yesterday," Cicely responded from the farther side of the room where she was feeding the dog chocolate peppermints, in a futile endeavor to teach him that vertebrae were meant to a.s.sist him in sitting up.

"But it is no joke, really," Theodora went on. "I can cook, or I can entertain; but I can't do both."

"Then go out into the highways and hedges and hire somebody," her husband suggested.

"I have. I started with a long list of people who had been recommended to me; but they all are engaged for that day. One would think the town was going into wholesale banquetings. For some people, I wouldn't mind; but Mr. Gilwyn is a pompous, gouty old soul, and moreover, he holds my fortunes in the hollow of his hand."

"How do you know he is coming?"

"A note, this morning. He hopes to see me at his lecture, and so on."

"Let's shut up the house and run down to New York, for a day or two,"

Billy said hospitably.

"No use. I should feel guilty to the end of my days, and embody my guilt in my next book. No; I can't afford to have my 'healthy tone'

demoralized. I shall face my duty, even if I have to ask him to sit by the kitchen hob, as Cicely calls it, while I prepare his simple meal."

Cicely gave the last of the peppermint to Melchisedek who bolted it with an ill-advised greed that brought the tears to his eyes, for the peppermint was a hot one.

"Cousin Ted," she remarked, as she came forward and perched herself on the arm of Theodora's chair; "I have a bright idea."

"Not really?" This from Billy.

"Yes, really. Patrick is no use, and you can't get anybody. Borrow old Susan from The Savins. She isn't good for much but staple commodities, roast beef and things; but I'll help her out. I know something about cooking, not much, but better than nothing; and then I'll serve it."

"Cis, you sha'n't."

"I'd like no better fun. Your man has never heard of me; you don't know what a stunning maid I'd look in a cap and pinafore. I always did love dressing up, and this will be such fun. May't I, please?"

She took Theodora by the chin and turned her face upward; and Theodora as she looked into the merry eyes above her, weakly gave her consent. It was not easy to face a domestic crisis; it was still less easy to face Cicely when her dimples were coming and going and her eyes as full of fun as they were now.

"Allyn," Cicely said breathlessly, as she dashed into the library at The Savins, half an hour later; "you are invited to a dinner party at our house, this day week."

"Thanks. I'll come, and please have lots of sticky jelly things."

"But you aren't invited to eat. I want you in the kitchen to help me."

"Not much! I'm going somewhere else, that night."

"You can't beg off. I must have you to help me navigate things to the table. I have agreed to act as a.s.sistant cook and head waitress, and I want you as second butler." And she unfolded the details of her plan.

Late one afternoon, a week afterwards, a trim maid in cap and ap.r.o.n was peering out from between the curtains of Mrs. Farrington's front window.

Allyn was beside her, and both the young faces wore an air of merry mystery, while there was an evident good-fellows.h.i.+p between them that was out of all harmony with their seeming difference in social rank.

"Oh, Allyn, say a prayer for the success of the salad!" the maid said wearily, as she settled her cap and pulled out the great bows of her ap.r.o.n strings.

"'Twill be all right. I sampled the dressing, as I came in. Isn't it time they were here?"

"Unless the train is late. Poor Cousin Ted! She has worked all the morning. I do hope things will be good."

"Cis!"

"Yes, Cousin Will."

"Do you happen to know where Ted keeps her keys? I want to get something out of that box of old trumpery of mine in the attic, and the thing is locked."

"I'll see if I can find them." And Cicely vanished, followed by a cry from Allyn,--

"Here they are, Cis, and here he is! Great Caesar, what a pelican of the wilderness! Poor Ted! She can't live up to such a man."

Seated at the dinner table, the publisher was very large, very ruddy, very imposing. He had a trick of imbibing his food solemnly, with a judicial air which sent apprehensive chills coursing down Cicely's spine, as she watched him pursing up his lips over the salad and nibbling daintily at the macaroni. The dinner was good, as far as it went. Of so much she was certain, for Susan was an expert in plain cookery, and, in her own cooking cla.s.s, Cicely had shown herself past master in the art of entrees. It only remained to be seen whether or not she could succeed in getting the supplies to and from the table without losing off her cap or dropping too many of the forks. Just outside the door, Allyn was toiling handily in her behalf; and, strange to say, she was free from the obstacle she had most feared, that Melchisedek would get under her feet at some critical moment, and project her headlong, roast and all, upon the smooth bald pate of Mr. Gilwyn. To her relief, the dog had mysteriously vanished. She was too glad to be rid of him to care whence or wherefore he had gone.

Little by little, she entered into the spirit of her part. At first, she had been a little frightened at what she had undertaken. She feared a break, either of ceremony or china. Then, as she had time to watch the guest and accustom herself to his ways and his appet.i.te, she devoted her energy to plying him with goodies, bending beside him with grave and deferential mien, then straightening up again to pa.s.s through a dumb show of mirth above his august head. Theodora was talking away valiantly, sternly resolved to do what credit she could to the family; but Billy, at the foot of the table, was sorely taxed to keep up his dignity.

Suddenly Theodora turned to the maid.

"Cicely dear," she said; "I wish you would give me another spoon."

Above Mr. Gilwyn's head, Cicely shook her fist at Theodora.

"Yes, ma'am," she said respectfully.

Mr. Gilwyn looked surprised. He had known eccentric authors in his day; moreover, he was aware that many housekeepers were women of theories in regard to the proper relation between mistress and maid. Still, he had never supposed that the spirit of domestic regeneration included a system of public endearments. He pondered upon the matter while he was eating his pudding, and it rendered him inattentive to Theodora's views on the origin of totem poles. Theodora saw his inattention, and, with the tact of the true hostess, she promptly changed the subject to one which should be less ponderous and more interesting. Leaving the totem poles, she began to talk of Quantuck and the vagaries of Mac. Quantuck proved to be an old vacation ground for Mr. Gilwyn, and he and Billy vied with each other in stories of the days when golf links were not, and the post office was still of the peripatetic variety, while Cicely kept close guard on her lips, lest she should involuntarily be drawn into adding her share to the conversation. Then all at once, Billy fell from grace, even as Theodora had done.

"Oh, Cis, old girl," he said jovially; "wake up and bring me some more coffee."

This time, Mr. Gilwyn's lower jaw dropped in amazement. There was a sudden awful silence, while, behind the guest's chair, Cicely's shoulders were shaking. In her mind, Theodora rapidly summed up the situation and judged it best to make a clean breast of the whole matter. Mr. Gilwyn looked as if his sense of humor were somewhat deficient; but he was a married man, and it was barely possible that his wife had not always escaped from similar experiences. Accordingly, she put on her most brilliant smile and leaned forward slightly in her chair.