lesson 49

   It is a good thing my aunt Harriet died
years ago. If she were alive today she
would not be able to air her views on her
favourite topic of conversation: domestic
servants. Aunt Harriet lived in that
leisurely age when servants were em-
ployed to do housework. She had a huge,
rambling country house called 'The
Gables'. She was sentimentally attached
to this house, for even though it was far
too big for her needs, she persisted in
living there long after her husband's
death. Before she grew old, aunt Harriet
used to entertain lavishly. I often visited
The Gables when I was a boy. No matter
how many guests were present, the great
house was always immaculate. The parquet floors shone like mirrors; highly
polished silver was displayed in gleaming glass cabinets; even my uncle's huge
collection of books was kept miraculously free from dust. Aunt Harriet presided
over an invisible army of servants that continuously scrubbed, cleaned, and
polished. She always referred to them as' the shifting population', for they came
and went with such frequency that I never even got a chance to learn their names,
Though my aunt pursued what was, in those days, an enlightened policy in that
she never allowed her domestic staff to work more than eight hours a day, she
was extremely difficult to please. While she always decried the fickleness of
human nature, she carried on an unrelenting search for the ideal servant to the
end of her days, even after she had been sadly disillusioned by Bessie.
Bessie worked for aunt Harriet for three years. During that time she so
gained my aunt's confidence, that she was put in charge of the domestic staff.
Aunt Hariet could not find words to praise Bessie's industry and efficiency. In
addition to all her other qualifications, Bessie was an expert cook. She acted the
role of the perfect servant for three years before aunt Harriet discovered her
'little weakness'. After being absent from The Gables for a week, my aunt
unexpectedly returned one afternoon with a party of guests and instructed
Bessie to prepare dinner. Not only was the meal well below the usual standard,
but Bereie seemed unable to walk steadily. She bumped into the furniture and
kept mumbling about the guests. When she came in with the last course--a
huge pudding-she tripped on the carpet and the pudding went flying through
the air, narrowly missed my aunt, and crashed on the dining table with con-
siderable force. Though this occasioned great mirth among the guests, aunt
Harriet was horrified. She reluctantly came to the conclusion that Bessie was
drunk. The guests had, of course, realized this from the moment Bessie opened
the door for them and, long before the final catastrophe, had had a difficult
time trying to conceal their amusement. The poor girl was dismissed instantly.
After her departure, aunt Harriet discovered that there were piles of empty
wine bottles of all shapes and sizes neatly stacked in what had once been Bessie's
wardrobe. They had mysteriously found their way there from the wine-cellar!