# Good Mrs Hypocrite/Chapter 6

It was not without some inward trepidation that Catherine Macpherson suggested to her brother at breakfast next morning the advisability of family worship.
He stared at her for a moment or two, as if in doubt. Then he slowly finished his coffee, and laughed.
"It's not a subject for mirth, Jamie," said his sister severely. "The heads of a house should always set a godly and pious example to their inferiors. And I'm thinking this quiet, steady, Scotch body below will expect it of us."
"Oh, is it for Tabbie we're to set up a family altar?"
"Tibbie, James, Tibbie is the woman's name, and a canny sensible creature she is that I've got for ye — worth a hundred of your flaunting, impudent London hussies!"
"Tibbie or Tabbie, it's much the same," said her brother impatiently. " I see I'm to have no peace till your preaching and psalm-singing is begun. Have your own way, woman; only don't ask me to conduct your 'family worship' for you."
"I'm asking nothing, Jamie, except your permission," said Catherine, with unwonted humility, and forthwith she brought out a Bible and a book of daily devotions, and laid the foundation-stone of the institution.
James Macpherson watched her with a certain grim amusement. She did it as if "to the manner bom," and the new handmaiden was unfailing in the matter of "ayes" and "amens."
Having thus sanctified the opening of the day, Catherine set to work to instruct Tibbie Minch in her duties. But for once she had met her match.
"I've aye been accustomed to having everything fair and straight before me," observed the domestic treasure, as she set down the tray of breakfast things on the kitchen-table. " And I'd like to ken, is this your house or your brother's, mem ? We canna serve twa masters, as ye ken weel ; and I only serve the one in authority. I wish to see my ain coorse straight set before me, so I'll be obleeged by the information."
"It is my brother's house," said Catherine Macpherson. " But he and I are equal in authority, and if he is the master, I am the mistress,"
Tibbie Minch began to roll up her sleeves, preparatory to washing the cups and saucers, then she said:
"It's no the same thing. Ye're nae man and wife. Your brither is the master, if the house is his ain. Does he pay my wages, or do you? that will just settle the business, I'm thinking."
"He pays everything, of course," allowed Catherine Macpherson reluctantly; " but I am here to look after him and his household affairs, and you must not trouble him on any domestic matters. His head isn't quite strong, and he must be kept free from all excitement."
"Oh, I'll no excite him," said Tibbie, commencing the work of "washing up"; "only it's mair satisfactory to hae a proper understanding at once. I ken your place weel eno', mem, and I ken my ain.
We'll agree, I dinna doubt, but I'm nane too fond o' being ordered and speered after like I was some bit lassie that didna ken a herrin' from a haddie. I hae a conscience o' my ain, and I do what my hand findeth to do, but I do it, ye ken, in my ain way, and I will nae be interruptit or interfered with. And so, after to-day, mem, I'd like my kitchen to mysel; and for the work o' the house, I'll mak' my ain days; and you'll just be livin' in the parlor like a leddy, and gi'e me your orders for the tradesfolk, as a leddy should, for I'm main grand at the cooking, and whether the master's ane o' the creetical kind or not, I'll undertake to please him weel eno'. But it's no a genteel thing for a mistress to be speerin' after pots and pans, and bit leavings of joints. I ken weel it's a sin to waste, and I wouldna do it ; and I've read the thirty-first chapter o' Proverbs, though I dinna seek wool or flax, but I aye kenned how to use my hands, and I need no tellin' at my time o' life. And now, mem, what will ye hae for dinner the day? and does Mr. Mac- pherson prefer his potatoes boiled in their ain jackets, or skinned in the wastefu' fashion o' these English folk?"
When Catherine Macpherson retired from that interview, she found herself reminded — none too pleasantly — of another verse of Proverbs, in a chapter antecedent to the famous thirty-first. It was a verse that informed the reader that the earth was disquieted for three things, and the first of the three was "a servant when he reigneth."
Before a month was over, Tibbie Minch ruled the whole household, and her rod was of iron. From the first she had determined to set her mistress in her place, and keep her there.
Needless to say, there were daily tiffs and storms, but in every one of these Catherine Macpherson was worsted. She did not like to call in her brother's authority, and her very first complaint as to Tibbie Minch's conduct brought a hailstorm of wrath upon her head.
"I don't know what you want, woman," stormed James Macpherson. "You drove away as nice a girl as ever came into the house, and nothing would content you but a Scotch shrew, like your own self. And now you can just make the best of her. She never bothers me, and her cooking is first-rate. Why can't you leave her alone? Let her do her work in her own way. What the devil can you know about the management of a decent house? And sermonizing and psalm-singing with a pack of old women, who made scarecrows of themselves, isn't the way to learn such management either. Tabbie takes good care of me. She mends my clothes, and airs my linen. She brings me a cup of hot tea the first thing in the morning, and helps me dress when my poor old fingers are numbed with cold ; and I'll not have her interfered with. She's a good servant, and knows her own value. So give her her head, and if she chooses to clean out the parlor on Monday instead of Tuesday, or wash the doorstep after breakfast in- stead of before, what does it matter? It's a most extraordinary thing that you women can never manage your house or servants without brawling or fault-finding. Ye don't know a good thing when ye get it, that's my opinion of you all!"
So Catherine Macpherson had to acknowledge her defeat. A bully can only be managed by a bully, and the pious virgin had met her match at last.
She now began to console herself in other ways for the humiliation she had so recklessly challenged. She had found a Presbyterian church in the neighborhood. The minister was a young man, clever, genial, and pious. She went twice on Sundays to hear him, and then to weekday lectures and Bible-readings, during the course of which she made his acquaintance.
The acquaintance led to his visiting her at Strome Villa, and to his hearing, from her own lips, the history of her self- denying life, and its godly work in the service of others.
This new excitement pleased her so well, that she passed the whole of the wdnter in a state of spiritual beatitude, varied by battles with Tibbie Minch, and an occasional tiff with her brother.
But for all this, time hung somewhat heavily on her hands, and she began to think of ways and means that might give her greater importance in the eyes of her new acquaintances.
She told herself that she knew quite enough people to institute a " day " for receiving them. The minister's wife did it, and Catherine had no desire to be behind- hand in following a good example. Besides, it would make a pleasant little excitement in the monotony of the week.
The subject became more and more attractive as she dwelt upon its possibilities. There were two difficulties to overcome in her case. Regarded from a moral and Christian standpoint, they gave the proceedings a greater importance than it generally obtains.
The first was to persuade Tibbie Minch of the necessity of being dressed for the afternoon at the early hour of three ; the next to get James Macpherson out of the way, as his presence was not desirable, and his conversation apt to be disastrous to her pretensions of authority.
It was with some trepidation that she tackled her astute handmaiden.
"Tibbie," she said, "I intend to fix one day a week — Wednesday, I think — in order to be at home to my friends. Every one does it, and it is really a very excel- lent plan. It prevents pur being unpre- pared for callers (as is too often the case with us, Tibbie), and one can offer a cup of tea, as is usually done, without waiting for the kettle to boil first."
Tibbie had listened in silence. She had just brought up the tray with Catherine's frugal supper, and she stood contemplat- ing it with a grim expression.
" If you'll speak yer meaning plain, mem," she said, " I'll e'en gi'e the metter my attention. I wis no aware ye had so large a circle o' freends that it was need- ful to be settin' apart a special day to re- ceive them; and five meenits is enough for my kettle to be ready. It's aye juist on the boil. And it's no because the meenister's wife does a thing that every feckless body in the parish is to be follow- ing her example. Canna ye be content to hae your freends aye drappin' in as they've been doing, and no settin' yerseP up, wi' ' At Homes,' and expectin' me to be dressed in my eftemoon goon a gude twa hours before it's my custom ? "
Catherine began to lose patience. The usual signs of temper showed in the hard- ening of her mouth, and the glitter of the Macpherson eye.
" I have acquainted you with my inten- tion," she said shortly. " Next Wednesday you will be dressed by half-past three at the latest ; and I wish to have afternoon tea brought up into the drawing- room in proper style as — as other people do."
"Ye'd no be thinking' o' hiring a man to wait, and giving him a livery at the same time ? " suggested Tibbie sarcastically. " I've e'en heard that's possible in London. Ay, but it's the Macphersons are the prood people the day. Whato' the mester ? Is he to be showin' himself at your tea-parties in the kilt ? I dinna doot he'd make a fine appearance — "
" Will you have the goodness to leave the room ! " exclaimed Catherine, in a white heat of passion. " I'm not bound to ask your opinion on my actions. I give you my orders, and I expect you to obey them, or else I'll get someone who will."
"Deed, then, I doot ye'U no find any decent serving-woman to stay with ye," said Tibbie, with a short laugh. " And ye may be sure it's no for my ain pleasure that I put up with the place. It's only because I ken ye're no fit for the respon- sibility or the charge o' your puir auld brither, and I hae nae the heart to leave him with ye. I ken yer infirmity^ mem," she added meaningly, " and ye should try to conquer it. There's aye stores o' grace above, if we only ask it in a humble speerit; but I'm no judge of character, maybe, or I could tell ye that's no your speerit or your wey o' asking."
A sharp knock at the back-door came here as a welcome interruption.
Catherine looked at the clock. Tibbie Minch's healthy cheek assumed a warm, red-brick tint.
"Who's that at this time of night?" said her mistress sharply. " It can't be a .trades-person ; it's too late."
"I'm thinkin' it's a freend o' my ain," said Tibbie ; " a bit laddie who's come up to London, and chanced to fall in wi' the service o' our ain milk-people. He prom- ised to gi'e me a call ; but I'll juist see."
She left the room, to Catherine's great relief, and, from the sound of voices below, it was evident that the " bit laddie " was the visitor. Catherine resented both the intrusion and the hour of call ; but she felt she dared not complain just now. She must shut her eyes to certain doings of Tibbie's, if she wished that worthy person to fall in with her own new mode of life.
Still, it was gall and wormwood to sit thus over her solitary supper, and hear the loud voices, the hearty laughs, and the evident enjoyment in the kitchen.
It was ten o'clock before the visitor left, and then Tibbie did not hurry to answer the sharp, impatient ring at the bell. Catherine Macpherson was on the point of ringing it a second time when she heard the familiar step on the kitchen stair. Tibbie entered the room with a beaming face, and something huddled up in her apron.
" Look ye here, mem," she said. " Did ye e'er see sic a bonnie, wee beastie ? — and all the way from my ain hame, too ! the bit laddie brought him — a present to me."
She showed Catherine a lovely, black, fluffy kitten, nestled in her apron folds.
Catherine drew back with a shiver.
"Oh ! I hate cats," she exclaimed. "I don't like them in the house at all."
"Deed, then, I'm sorry for that, for this is my ain, and I'm no goin' to part wi' it," said Tibbie. " What sort o' nature can ye hae at all, to be glowerin' like that at a wee, dumb creaturie that wouldna harm a fly. Deed, an I were ye, Mistress Macpherson, I'd take shame to mysel' for sic folly." She cuddled the little soft thing against her own cheek, murmuring all sorts of endearments.
"I have no objection to your keeping it in the kitchen," said Catherine diplomatically ; " but I'll not have it up-stairs, mind; and now clear away my supper, it's getting late."
"Sit ye there, David, my bonnie wee man," murmured Tibbie, putting the kitten on her shoulder. He obeyed, surveying the room and surroundings with wide, topaz-colored eyes. A thick, black ruff round his neck, and his full arched tail proclaimed him of the Persian order. He seemed gentle and intelligent, and his wise eyes made Catherine Macpherson uncomfortable when she met their gaze.
It was with a sigh of relief she saw Tibbie's figure disappear.
"I'll get rid of that beast as soon as I can," she muttered to herself. "I wish I could get rid of the woman, too. I am sorry now I sent away Kate. She was young and flighty, but, at least, she never disputed my authority."