The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-03-08
spoiIing of a Good COOK.

A family has lost a good cook, in order
that an artist might gain a good model;
and all housekeepers will agree that that's
a pity, says the New York Sun.
Nora came to America three years ago,
and, in the natural course of events and
employment agencies, settled down in the
Wilson household. She is an Irish beauty
of the sort rarely met out of novels; and,
in addition to having glorious auburn hair,
wonderful eyes, a radiant complexion, and
a figure for which no smile will do save
the OverworlSed Hebe, she had the dispo-
sition of a cherub. She didn't know much
about cooking; but, as Mrs. Wilson wisely
remarked, one can't expect to get every
thing. Mr.. Wilson agreed with her; but,
having some wisdom of his own, he ddn' t
rhapsodlze over the new servants beauty.
The girl did all the work of the house
and had general air of crying for more
She learned to cook as easily as duck
learns to swim, and she loved dinners and
begged Mrs. Wilson TO give luncheons and
teas. Morning and even paeans of praise
went up from the family. At first they
were a trile uneasy.
1T can't last" said Mr.. Wilson.
She's SO pretty she'll get married just
when she has reached absolute perfection, -
sighed Mrs. Wilson.
But their fears didn't materialize Nora
grew better and better, and She steadfast-
ly Withstood the wiles of butchers, bakers,
milkmen and policemen, who went down
before her. AT last the Wilson's began to
breathe easily and to believe that they
were of the elect and that life was to be
for them, blissful experience. Then, out
Of clear sky, the lightning came.
one afternoon Nora put on a new blue
dress and started downtown. When she
came back there was a change in her. She
was cold and naughty. She condescended
to the roast and potatoes. She tolerated
Mr.. and Mrs. Wilson at dinner time, and
she didn't appear sympathetic over the
breakfast menu.
Something's happened to Nora" said
Mrs Wilson, fearfully.
The next day it all came out.
Il was a-walkin' along the sthreet "a
thinkin of nothin' at-all, at-all," said No
ra, when up comes a lady wild a funny
bonnet and she seq, SEE she:
'Phwat's yer name, me gurl?
Nora Flanohan, SEE 1, polite.
'Phwat do We do? SEE she.
I'm a-cookin' fer the wilson's SEE I.
'On that she rolls her eyes as if some
thin hurt her, and she SEE, "Ob!
Il looked at her, inquirin' like.
An wild that head?' SEE she.
I'm not afther denyin that uses me
head in it, SEE to her, wild me temper up.
'Then she laughed and she SEE, L name.
an We so beautiful. Do you know ye're
loVely?'
Mr.. Reilly, the policeman, has anthem
tould me Sc SEE to her.
Now, I'm an artist the lady goes on.
an ye're too good for cookin. Anybody
as beautiful as you ought to have sowl
above that. You could help artists paint
beautiful pictures, and make lots more
money, too
Il wuz interested in that, an she tould
me to come wild her. We went I'D to a
room all windows, but with shades over
thin all, an rags hanging up around the
wall, and such messes of stuff all over
that L cud hardly kape from rollin' up my
sleeves and claiming thin out. The lady
she luks at me, and then she walks around
and luks at me some more, an then she
SEE: You come poze for me an I'll get me
friends to have We, an yell make tin dol
lars week anyway
'Poze? Phwats that?' seq I.
oh, just sit or stand an let me paint
pictures of ye.
Howly Saint Pathrick,' SEE I, being
surprised anybody wud pay so much for
that
" oh, not the altogether she seq, sud
dint like, an 1 suppose she names it won't
be altogether aisy loike. But I'm goin'.
Misses Wilson. an I'll be glad when We
get another CURL"
Mrs. Wilson labored in vain. Nora
wouldn't listen to reason of warning. The
artist had convinced her that she had a
higher mission and she scorned the kitch-
en-, though she does the work faithfully
while waiting for another girl
On Monday Mrs Wilson went into the
laundry. There was Nora bending over
the tub in a cloud of steam-her hair curl
ing around her face, her cheeks glowing.
her sleeves rolled away from her splendid
arms-a vision of beauty. She took a
white petticoat and gave it a vicious snap
in the air which sent the soapsuds flying
"Wurkin' loike this, an me an artists
modell,' she said resentfully.