The Waterbury Democrat., 1946-01-04
UHApTER V

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 3OuR move was a terrible blow " Co my father. His pride had been cut in it's sorest spot, and he was in mortal terror lest my mother's parents should somehow 1ind out what had happened.
 Don't write your grandparents where we are living now" he told ls, trying hard Co act casual. Let's keep it for a surprise" His shame was almost pltifll, and for once even Julia softened,
 There must have been plenty Of talk in town. but my mother held her head high. Were going to spend our summer in the American aouse," she told her friends and nelghbors. It was almost as though she was saying. we are taking Q trip Co Boston" With us she was as pleasant and composed as ever. But there was Q new set to her chin whenever the American House was mentioned.
 She had found things worse, reai- ly, than she had expected. Provisions had been bought by wholesale, and both the cellar and the storeroom wer stocked with perishables-meat, eggs, butter, barrels of crackers, a crate of oranges, and two whole punches of bananas. The place was overstaffed, to. There were two waitresses, chef, chambermaid, a clerk, and two men in the stable, all of whom had been sent on by the same agency that had recommended Jim Mcclure.
 what we need is native help," my mother said after one look at the kitchen. So she discharged those from the agency Gall of whom had been resting well and eating heartily and set out to find local people to take their places. The first fruit of her search was Mrs. Guptill, widow from neighboring village.
 GIVEN only Mrs. Guptill to reckon V with, my father might have been well on his feet before the summer was over. Her industry was e thing to marvel at. She was up at $ every morning and by 5:30 she had the fire going, the kettle boiling, the biscuits cut, the bacon and heefsteak brought in from the cellar, and the fish rolled in corn meal, ready for frying. By @ quarter to 6 she was rattling the dumb-waiter, furning at people who thought only of their bedy and board. She herself lived an ascette life. Her breakfast consisted of a slice of toast and a cup of salted water; her dinner, three raw carrots and a baked pota- to; her supper, Q pint of milk and a piece of pilot-bread.
 She was as neat as a pin and. incidentally, built almost like one. Summer and winter alike, she wore . black dress with long sleeves and a high collar, and over 1t a spotlesS white apron. lone of these she washed every afternoon, to- gether with her underwear, her stockings and her shoe lacings. Her reddish hair-sorrel, Benjamin, the stableman, called twas xnot- ted deftly on the top of her head. She always smelled of Lennox soap.
 Ada. the table girl, came next. She had a broad, shining face, with q few freckies on it, brown eyes and light brown hair which she wore in a pompadour with the aid of a wire framework. She was quite Q talker, specializing in Q long string of cala- mites which always involved mem- bers of her immediate family.
 Nothing ever annoyed Ada. A spilled cup of coffee. Or a transient coming in at o'clock. Or 27 lamps to clean daily. All she asked was an hour or two of in the afternoon So that she could study up on the LOVERS GUIDE AND MANUAL which she kept hidden behind the dinner plates. It had a chapter on the Language of Flowers, I remem- Der, another on Rules for Handler chief and Postage Stamp, another on Eye and Whip. Filtration. The book always surprised me. since Ada never airted. Indeed, she treated