The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1888-05-19

and myself.
"Now, Hannah" said my aunt, the
very earliest possible moment after her
daughters departure, 81 want something
fit to eat. I'm tired of stalled OK, en-
broidered oysters, polished chops, and
Irish bouillon. For change I'd like
some good old fashioned ham and eggs,
and some baked beans and brown bread.
Tom told me you we're going to get gas
stove"
"Well, I'm not" replied. 81 am 60
ing to cook on my own range in my own
kitchen. 1 shall begin tomorrow, after
1 have properly prepared Mrs. De Flam-
mers for my debut. My first order will
be issued, like Flors's, from the library"
"Orders Flora's ?" said the invalid,
with sniff. "Tom Guernsey will be
ruined, L tell you that, if my daughter
keeps on with her orders. Toms fool"
The following morning waited from
nine till half past ten for the cook to pre-
sent herself. Then she appeared with
solemnity and dignity, Mrs. De Flsm-
mers was heavy browed, middle-sged
woman, of a ford complexion, and a
Statue Of Liberty waist.
"This is Miss Cornell, L presume p,
she remarked.
eyes," replied; " and you, suppose,
are the cook?"
My name is De Planners, ma'am.
Mrs. De Planners. 1 am a wildly" was
the impressive reply.
"What is your given name ?" I in
quired, carelessly, to all appearance un-
touched by the intended reproof. The
womans face was ahame.
"My name is Margaret" she said; " but
il may make SO bold, should like to
inquire what concern it is of anybody's
ma'am ?"
81 am in tile habit of calling my serv-
ants by their first Names" 1 answered,
coolly. "Have you your list made out,
Margaret ?"
"Me list ?-me list t? What do ye
mean by me list Sure and if it is the
things 1 made for the day, Henry went
for them immaiately after breakfast"
"And what is for dinner, Margaret ?"
"Bless me soul, and the heart of me
mistress dear, who has gone away off to
Californy, and who would niver have
asked me such question if we had lived
together for twenty years!" And now
the cooks tones were exceedingly lachry-
NOSE. at was always, Just what We
phase, dear Mrs. De Planners; you do
cook so beautiful that there's niver any
thing left to ask for"
"You haven't answered my question,
Margaret" persisted. "What are we &C.
ing to have for dinner ?"
at ii be the coorses that we generally
have on a Thursday, with new entry Of
pigeons = or = hearts, which l thought
as how might be pleasing to the sick
lady," was the reply, in somewhat mol
lifted tone.
"And that reminds me- remarked,
with an indifference which was far from
feeling, "that 1 shall be down in about
half an hour to make some soup for Mrs.
Taylor"
1.-THE kitchen is me own vine and fig
tree, ma'am, and none of me mistresses is
ever allowed to sile their fingers there, -
Mrs. De Hammers replied. 1.-THE kitch-
en- is no place for lady. Surely ye
ought to understand that"
"There is nothing more to say at pres.
ent," 1 remarked, and with wave of my
hand toward the door by which this be-
hemoth of flesh and impertinence had en-
tered, left the library.
think 1 can say that the experience Of
the next sixty minutes was the browning
experience of my life. I had seen some
dirt, and heard of more, but this kitchen
was den of iniquity. How any decently
served and favored food could come from
this filthy hole was mystery. The most
expensive china and the incest OF porce-
lain pots and cooking utensils covered
the tables, the sink and the range all
scorched and gummed with the different
accumulations of ages. The cooks as
sistant sat in the front basement-the
servants sitting room-reading novel.
A couple of dozen squads, nicely picked,
lay upon one end of side table, and Mrs.
De Planners was beating some eggs at
the other end. There was not single
vessel in this bountifully provided kitch-
en- that was in readiness for my use. The
presiding deity appeared not to be aware
of my existence. Mary came at my bid
ding, and after tedious scraping and
securing, saucepan was made passably
clean; just as had got my soup well un-
der way a wagon load of new pots and
kettles arrived.
"You see, miss" Mary explained, as
they were brought in and deposited any
where where room could be made for
them, 1--WE was just going to throw these
things away; they was so old, you see."
"Who ordered these articles ?" asked
of the boy.
"Mr. Guernsey's Henry, ma'am," was
the reply.
felt that moment like the compound
concentrated essence of dynamite.
could have blown up most anything.
"Well," said, "you will please take
these things back to the store, and say
that nothing is to be delivered at this