“YOU are late in doing the fire this morning, Mary," said Kate to the young servant who was passing her on the stairs. For my young mistress had left her chamber half-an-hour previously, and had been anxiously waiting for the maid to make her appearance. Now, hearing the girl upon the landing, she had come out to speak to her.
“I haven't had any orders about your fire, miss," replied the girl, as she looked at Kate in surprise.
“You had better go and get them then from your mistress at once," said Kate. “Tell her we should like the fire lighted always by half-past seven.”
“Missis says as you've got to see to the fire, miss!" said the girl in a respectful tone, as she entered the room a few minutes afterward; "but I may bring the wood and coal up for you this morning."
“Does she mean that I shall have to attend to the fire in the morning?" asked Kate, with a flush on her countenance; "and bring up the wood and coal for myself?"
“‘Rangements was 'rangements,' she said, miss," answered the girl, as she prepared to go for the requisite articles. "Missis said she told you no 'tendance; ' you'd have it all to yourself."
“I did not understand that," said Kate to herself, as she entered the now cheerless room, and glanced at the disorderly fireplace. “But it won't do to be taken aback in this fashion at the first disagreeable thing I experience," said she half aloud. “If it has to be done, it must be my doing, I suppose." It was years, if indeed ever before, since Kate had done such a thing, and it was some trouble to make the grate look as it ought to do.
Rebellious thoughts came into her mind, too, as she brushed away at the dull-looking bars; but they did not hold their place very long. Wood and coal had now been placed at her side by the obliging servant, who was at this instant just on the point of quitting the room; but as she turned away, an awkward movement on Kate's part attracted the girl's attention, and she advanced a little towards her.
“If you wouldn't mind, miss," said she with a smile, " I'd show you how to do it easier than that. That's a thing I takes a pride in, cleaning a grate." A few brandishes of her strong arms, and the grate soon resumed its ordinary complexion. Mr. Grahame slept a little later than usual that morning, so that all traces of the difficulty had vanished long before he took his seat at the breakfast table.
“I think the roses are coming back a little," said Mr. Grahame playfully, as he pinched Kate's cheeks before starting to his morning duties. And Kate, as she returned his smile, though she could have done so, did not think it prudent to tell him what had brought them into bloom.
It did not take my young mistress many days to discover the meaning of the terms upon which she had ignorantly entered. “No attendance," put into plain English, she found to mean much more than she suspected. It meant the performance of many an act for which her former mode of life naturally unfitted her. But rooms, if inhabited at all, must be kept clean and orderly; and if there were windows in them, the clear, blue sky ought to be seen on the other side; to say nothing of the sundry boxes of coal and pails of water that were required for use on the first landing. Easily tired, too, did my young mistress grow at these unwonted tasks; but she bore up bravely for her father's sake.
Kate had, however, yet to learn more fully the widely extensive application of the "no attendance" system. It was Saturday, and she had risen earlier than usual in order to perform the little extra duties she thought best to fulfill on that busiest of all days. The wet boards in her own chamber were clear proofs that she had already cleansed them from the week's accumulation of dust; while the landing, with all its glory of shining canvas, silently testified that it also had received a due share of attention. Not a speck of dust was to be seen in the pleasant-looking sitting-room, though the bright rays of the morning sun were streaming into the apartment exposing all that was there.
Kate, somewhat wearied by the exertion necessary to accomplish so many little details, was now seated quietly at the breakfast-table, enjoying the rest she had so well earned. Mr. Grahame had not yet quitted his chamber; but the fragrant coffee upon the table, and the breakfast equipage in complete order, showed that it was quite time for him to do so. A slight tap at the door, followed by the entrance of Mrs. Barnes, the landlady, rather disturbed Kate's pleasant musings.
"Please, Miss Grahame," said the woman, as she advanced a step or two towards the table at which Kate was seated, "I thought p'raps you'd rather I told you myself, than sent Mary up to do it It'll be your turn to do the stairs to-day."
“The stairs!" said Kate in bewilderment; "I don't quite understand what you mean, Mrs. Barnes."
“The lodgers takes it in turns to wash the stairs down on Saturdays," explained the landlady. “One week it's the downstairs' duty, and the next week it's the up's."
“That is not a customary arrangement, is it?" asked Kate rather quickly.
“Oh yes; it's a usual thing when there's 'no attendance.' I likes the place kept nice and orderly myself, and I expect you to do so too, miss." And so saying Mrs. Barnes quitted the apartment, leaving its occupant to wonder how much more experience she was going to get of the meaning of words so elastic. Kate's first impulse was to tell her father that on Saturday, at least, it would be desirable to procure the services of a charwoman; but as she thought more calmly over the matter, ere Mr. Grahame had taken his seat at the breakfast-table she had decided that for a time, at least, the stairs had better be added to her other duties.
" What a blessed comforter the word of God is!" said Kate to herself, as about an hour later in the day, having seen her father safely out of the house, and the coast clear for her operations, she was busily engaged washing step after step of the two flights of stairs that led to their apartments. "What is there that we have to do, in which some ray of comfort or advice does not fall upon our listening ears? I wonder did such humble tasks as these ever enter the mind of him who penned the comprehensive words, Do all things without murmuring'?" And with this verse in her mind, Kate dusted a bracket in the hall, which could not be supposed to be included in the “stairs " business.
There were other verses also which presented themselves to her mind as she mounted the finished staircase. And Kate, as she seated herself it her chamber with the sweet, fresh air coming in through the open window, took her Bible and turned to some of them: “If any man will sue thee at the law, and take away thy coat, let him have thy cloak also. And whosoever shall compel thee to go a mile, go with him twain," Surely beneath those blessed words from the Master's own lips there must be a principle that would apply to her own path. And Kate felt glad that the bracket had not escaped her attention.
I should like Sarah to read what I have said about Kate in this chapter; but I fear she would not take the trouble to do so. I often think of the contrast between those clean, orderly apartments, over which Kate had the charge, and these in which my last days are now being spent. Here, there is dirt, disorder and dissatisfaction. There, at least, was to be found purity, prayer and peace.
Of all things in this world that call one's powers of contempt into full play, it is the sight of a slatternly woman. Oh! if I only had the ability to use a needle and thread, how many a stitch would I set in the garments which Sarah McLean calls her "morning attire"! Her father, though living in a humble style, is very rich for a working man, and he has not limited his only daughter's wardrobe. And Sarah, after an hour spent upon her toilet in the afternoon hours, will frequently arouse the envy of the simple village girls by the astonishing amount of finery she can produce upon certain occasions.
But for my part I think that if some of the time spent in arraying herself in these unnecessary adornments were devoted to repairing her morning gowns, it would help to render her appearance more decent and becoming; but I must not speak too much of Sarah McLean. It is not wise to talk too freely upon such a sore subject; for long before one is aware of it, such talks lead to harsh and unkind feelings, and we may even, in describing the faults and failings of others, speak of them in such a way as to generate "roots of bitterness," which "springing up" may give much "trouble" to ourselves and others. Of the manner in which I came into Sarah's possession you will hear later on.