酷兔英语

章节正文

Mrs. Bobby, to put by a few shillings a month towards the debt on
the cottage? These are some of the problems she presents to me. I

have turned them over and over in my mind as I have worked, and even
asked Willie Beresford in my weekly letter what he could suggest.

Of course he could not suggest anything: men never can; although he
offered to come there and lodge for a month at twenty-five pounds a

week. All at once, one morning, a happy idea struck me, and I ran
down to Mrs. Bobby, who was weeding the onion-bed in the back

garden.
"Mrs. Bobby," I said, sitting down comfortably on the edge of the

lettuce-frame, "I am sure I know how you can earn many a shilling
during the summer and autumn months, and you must begin the

experiment while I am here to advise you. I want you to serve five-
o'clock tea in your garden."

"But, miss, thanking you kindly, nobody would think of stoppin' 'ere
for a cup of tea once in a twelvemonth."

"You never know what people will do until you try them. People will
do almost anything, Mrs. Bobby, if you only put it into their heads,

and this is the way we shall make our suggestion to the public. I
will paint a second signboard to hang below 'Comfort Cottage.' It

will be much more beautiful than the other, for it shall have a
steaming kettle on it, and a cup and saucer, and the words 'Tea

Served Here' underneath, the letters all intertwined with tea-
plants. I don't know how tea-plants look, but then neither does the

public. You will set one round table on the porch, so that if it
threatens rain, as it sometimes does, you know, in England, people

will not be afraid to sit down; and the other you will put under the
yew-tree near the gate. The tables must be immaculate; no spotted,

rumpled cloths and chipped cups at Comfort Cottage, which is to be a
strictly first-class tea station. You will put vases of flowers on

the tables, and you will not mix red, yellow, purple, and blue ones
in the same vase-"

"It's the way the good Lord mixes 'em in the fields," interjected
Mrs. Bobby piously.

"Very likely; but you will permit me to remark that the good Lord
can manage things successfully which we poor humans cannot. You

will set out your cream-jug that was presented to Mrs. Martha
Buggins by her friends and neighbours as a token of respect in 1823,

and the bowl that was presented to Mr. Bobby as a sword and shooting
prize in 1860, and all your pretty little odds and ends. You will

get everything ready in the kitchen, so that customers won't have to
wait long; but you will not prepare much in advance, so that

there'll be nothing wasted."
"It sounds beautiful in your mouth, miss, and it surely wouldn't be

any 'arm to make a trial of it."
"Of course it won't. There is no inn here where nice people will

stop (who would ever think of asking for tea at the Retired
Soldier?), and the moment they see our sign, in walking or driving

past, that moment they will be consumed with thirst. You do not
begin to appreciate our advantages as a tea station. In the first

place, there is a watering-trough not far from the gate, and drivers
very often stop to water their horses; then we have the lovely

garden which everybody admires; and if everything else fails, there
is the baby. Put that faded pink flannel slip on Jem, showing his

tanned arms and legs as usual, tie up his sleeves with blue bows as
you did last Sunday, put my white tennis-cap on the back of his

yellow curls, turn him loose in the hollyhocks, and await results.
Did I not open the gate the moment I saw him, though there was no

apartment sign in the window?"
Mrs. Bobby was overcome by the magic of my arguments, and as there

were positively no attendant risks, we decided on an early opening.
The very next day after the hanging of the second sign, I

superintended the arrangements myself. It was a nice thirsty
afternoon, and as I filled the flower-vases I felt such a desire for

custom and such a love of trade animating me that I was positively
ashamed. At three o'clock I went upstairs and threw myself on the

bed for a nap, for I had been sketching on the hills since early
morning. It may have been an hour later when I heard the sound of

voices and the stopping of a heavy vehicle before the house. I
stole to the front window, and, peeping under the shelter of the

vines, saw a char-a-bancs, on the way from Great Belvern to the
Beacon. It held three gentlemen, two ladies, and four children, and

everything had worked precisely as I intended. The driver had seen
the watering-trough, the gentlemen had seen the tea-sign, the

children had seen the flowers and the canaries, and the ladies had
seen the baby. I went to the back window to call an encouraging

word to Mrs. Bobby, but to my horror I saw that worthy woman
disappearing at the extreme end of the lane in full chase of our

cow, that had broken down the fence, and was now at large with some
of our neighbour's turnip-tops hanging from her mouth.

Chapter XXIV. An unlicensed victualler.
Ruin stared us in the face. Were our cherished plans to be

frustrated by a marauding cow, who little realised that she was
imperilling her own means of existence? Were we to turn away three,

five, nine thirsty customers at one fell swoop? Never! None of
these people ever saw me before, nor would ever see me again. What

was to prevent my serving them with tea? I had on a pink cotton
gown,--that was well enough; I hastily buttoned on a clean painting

apron, and seizing a freshly laundered cushion cover lying on the
bureau, a square of lace and embroidery, I pinned it on my hair for

a cap while descending the stairs. Everything was right in the
kitchen, for Mrs. Bobby had flown in the midst of her preparations.

The loaf, the bread-knife, the butter, the marmalade, all stood on
the table, and the kettle was boiling. I set the tea to draw, and

then dashed to the door, bowed appetisingly to the visitors, showed
them to the tables with a winning smile (which was to be extra),

seated the children maternally on the steps and laid napkins before
them, dashed back to the kitchen, cut the thin bread-and-butter, and

brought it with the marmalade, asked my customers if they desired
cream, and told them it was extra, went back and brought a tray with

tea, boiling water, milk, and cream. Lowering my voice to an
English sweetness, and dropping a few h's ostentatiously as I

answered questions, I poured five cups of tea, and four mugs for the
children, and cut more bread-and-butter, for they were all eating

like wolves. They praised the butter. I told them it was a
specialty of the house. They requested muffins. With a smile of

heavenly sweetness tinged with regret, I replied that Saturday was
our muffin day; Saturday, muffins; Tuesday, crumpets; Thursday,

scones; and Friday, tea-cakes. This inspirationsprang into being
full grown, like Pallas from the brain of Zeus. While they were

regretting that they had come on a plain bread-and-butter day, I
retired to the kitchen and made out a bill for presentation to the

oldest man of the party.
s. d.

Nine teas . . . . 3 6
Cream . . . . 3

Bread-and-butter . . 1 0
Marmalade . . . . 6

-----
5 3

Feeling five and threepence to be an absurdly small charge for five
adult and four infant teas, I destroyed this immediately, and made

out another, putting each item fourpence more, and the bread-and-
butter at one-and-six. I also introduced ninepence for extra teas

for the children, who had had two mugs apiece, very weak. This
brought the total to six shillings and tenpence, and I was beset by

a horribletemptation to add a shilling or two for candles; there
was one young man among the three who looked as if he would have

understood the joke.
The father of the family looked at the bill, and remarked

quizzically, "Bond Street prices, eh?"
"Bond Street service," said I, curtsying demurely.

He paid it without flinching, and gave me sixpence for myself. I
was very much afraid he would chuck me under the chin; they are

always chucking barmaids under the chin in old English novels, but I
have never seen it done in real life. As they strolled down to the

gate, the second gentleman gave me another sixpence, and the nice
young fellow gave me a shilling; he certainly had read the old

English novels and remembered them, so I kept with the children.
One of the ladies then asked if we sold flowers.

"Certainly," I replied.
"What do you ask for roses?"

"Fourpence apiece for the fine ones," I answered glibly, hoping it
was enough, "thrippence for the small ones; sixpence for a bunch of

sweet peas, tuppence apiece for buttonhole carnations."
Each of the ladies took some roses and mignonette, and the

gentlemen, who did not care for carnations in the least, weakened
when I approached modestly to pin them in their coats, a la barmaid.

At this moment one of the children began to tease for a canary.
"Have you one for sale?" inquired the fond mother.

"Certainly, madam." (I was prepared to sell the cottage by this
time.)

"What do you ask for them?"
Rapid calculation on my part, excessively difficult without pencil

and paper. A canary is three to five dollars in America,--that is,
from twelve shilling to a pound; then at a venture, "From ten

shillings to a guinea, madam, according to the quality of the bird."
"Would you like one for your birthday, Margaret, and do you think

you can feed it and take quite good care of it?"
"Oh yes, mamma!"

"Have you a cage?" to me inquiringly.
"Certainly, madam; it is not a new one, but I shall only charge you

a shilling for it." (Impromptu plan: not knowing whether Mrs. Bobby
had any cages, or if so where she kept them, to remove the canary in

Mrs. Bobby's chamber from the small wooden cage it inhabited, close
the windows, and leave it at large in the room; then bring out the

cage and sell it to the lady.)
"Very well, then, please select me a good singer for about twelve

shillings; a very yellow one, please."
I did so. I had no difficulty about the colour; but as the birds

all stopped singing when I put my hand into the cages, I was
somewhat at a loss to choose a really fine performer. I did my

best, with the result that it turned out to be the mother of several
fine families, but no vocalist, and the generous young man brought

it back for an exchange some days afterwards; not only that, but he
came three times during the next week and nearly ruined his nervous

system with tea.
The party finally mounted the char-a-bancs, just as I was about to

offer the baby for twenty-five pounds, and dirt cheap at that.
Meanwhile I gave the driver a cup of lukewarm tea, for which I

refused absolutely to accept any remuneration.
I had cleared the tables before Mrs. Bobby returned, flushed and

panting, with the guilty cow. Never shall I forget that good dame's
astonishment, her mild deprecations, her smiles--nay, her tears--as

she inspected my truly English account and received the silver.
s. d.

Nine teas . . . . 3 6
Cream . . . . 7

Bread-and-butter . . 1 6
Extra teas. . . . 9

Marmalade . . . . 6
Three tips. . . . 2 0

Four roses and mignonette. 1 8
Three carnations . . 6

Canary . . . . 12 0
Cage . . . . 1 0

------
24 0

I told her I regretted deeply putting down the marmalade so low as
sixpence; but as they had not touched it, it did not matter so much,

as the entire outlay for the entertainment had been only about a


文章标签:名著  

章节正文