The New Magdalen
Page 88He looked round in wonder. The sound of her voice was so completely
altered that he almost fancied there must have been another woman in the
room.
"Ring the bell!" she repeated. "I have left my work upstairs. If you
want me to be in good spirits, I must have my work."
Still looking at her, Horace put his hand mechanically to the bell and
rang. One of the men-servants came in.
"Go upstairs and ask my maid for my work," she said, sharply. Even the
man was taken by surprise: it was her habit to speak to the servants
with a gentleness and consideration which had long since won all their
hearts. "Do you hear me?" she asked, impatiently. The servant bowed,
and went out on his errand. She turned to Horace with flashing eyes and
fevered cheeks.
poor woman has no maid to dress her, and no footman to send upstairs. Is
life worth having, Horace, on less than five thousand a year?"
The servant returned with a strip of embroidery. She took it with an
insolent grace, and told him to bring her a footstool. The man obeyed.
She tossed the embroidery away from her on the sofa. "On second
thoughts, I don't care about my work," she said. "Take it upstairs
again." The perfectly trained servant, marveling privately, obeyed once
more. Horace, in silent astonishment, advanced to the sofa to observe
her more nearly. "How grave you look!" she exclaimed, with an air of
flippant unconcern. "You don't approve of my sitting idle, perhaps?
Anything to please you! _I_ haven't got to go up and downstairs. Ring
the bell again."
I never even thought of your work."
"Never mind; it's inconsistent to send for my work, and then send it
away again. Ring the bell."
Horace looked at her without moving. "Grace," he said, "what has come to
you?"
"How should I know?" she retorted, carelessly. "Didn't you tell me to
rally my spirits? Will you ring the bell, or must I?"
Horace submitted. He frowned as he walked back to the bell. He was one
of the many people who instinctively resent anything that is new to
them. This strange outbreak was quite new to him. For the first time
in his life he felt sympathy for a servant, when the much-enduring man
appeared once more.
explanation she reclined luxuriously on the soft sofa-cushions, swinging
one of her balls of wool to and fro above her head, and looking at it
lazily as she lay back. "I have a remark to make, Horace," she went on,
when the door had closed on her messenger. "It is only people in our
rank of life who get good servants. Did you notice? Nothing upsets that
man's temper. A servant in a poor family should have been impudent; a
maid-of-all-work would have wondered when I was going to know my own
mind." The man returned with the embroidery. This time she received
him graciously; she dismissed him with her thanks. "Have you seen your
mother lately, Horace?" she asked, suddenly sitting up and busying
herself with her work.