atoes, nor puff your pastry, as
Jane Power has done. But there's limits, Dr. Maybright; and I has come
to give you notice, though out of no disrespect to you, sir."
"Then why do you do it, Mrs. Power?" said the Doctor. "You are an honest
and conscientious servant, I know that from your late mistress's
testimony. You cook very good dinners too, and you make suitable
puddings for the children, and pastry not too rich. Why do you want to
leave? I don't like change; and, if it is a question of wages, perhaps I
may be able to meet you."
"I'm obligated to you, Doctor; but it ain't that. I has my twenty-two
pounds paid regular, and all found. I ain't grumbling on that score, and
Jane Power was never havaricious nor grasping. I'm obligated too by what
you says with respect to the pastry; but, Doctor, it ain't in mortal
woman to stand a chit of a child being put over her. So I'm going this
day month; and, with your leave, I'll turn the key in the kitchen-door
next week, or else I'll forfeit my wage and go at once."
"Dear, dear," said the Doctor. "This is really embarrassing. I never
thought that Polly's experience would upset the household economy in so
marked a manner. I am really annoyed, for I certainly gave her leave to
housekeep for a week."
"It isn't as I minds youth, Dr. Maybright," continued Mrs. Power. "I
makes due allowances for the young, for I says to myself, 'Jane Power,
you was once, so to speak, like an unfledged chick yourself;' but
there's youth _and_ youth, Dr. Maybright; and Miss Polly's of the kind
as makes your 'air stand on hend."
"Poor Polly," said the Doctor.
"No, sir, begging your parding, if you was in the kitchen, it's 'poor
Mrs. Power' you'd be a-saying. Now I don't say nothing agin Miss
Nelly--she's the elder, and she have nice ways with her--she takes a
little bit after my poor dear mistress; oh, what a nature was hers,
blessed angel!"
Here Mrs. Power rolled her eyes skywards, and the Doctor, turning his
back, walked to the window.
"Be brief," he said, "I am pressed for time."
"Sir, I was never one for long words; agen' Miss Helen I haven't a word
to say. She comes down to the kitchen after breakfast as pretty as you
please, and she says, 'Power,' says she, 'you'll advise me about the
dinner to-day,' says she. 'Shall we have minced collops, or roast beef?
And shall we have fruit tart with custard?' Pretty dear, she don't know
nothink, and she owns it, and I counsel her, as who th
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