Chapter 4

CONTAINING INFALLIBLE NOSTRUMS FOR PROCURING UNIVERSAL DISESTEEM AND HATRED

The lady had no sooner laid herself on her pillow than the waiting-woman returned to the kitchen to regale with some of those dainties which her mistress had refused.

The company, at her entrance, shewed her the same respect which they had before paid to her mistress, by rising; but she forgot to imitate her, by desiring them to sit down again. Indeed, it was scarce possible they should have done so, for she placed her chair in such a posture as to occupy almost the whole fire. She then ordered a chicken to be broiled that instant, declaring, if it was not ready in a quarter of an hour, she would not stay for it. Now, though the said chicken was then at roost in the stable, and required the several ceremonies of catching, killing, and picking, before it was brought to the gridiron, my landlady would nevertheless have undertaken to do all within the time; but the guest, being unfortunately admitted behind the scenes, must have been witness to the fourberie; the poor woman was therefore obliged to confess that she had none in the house; “but, madam,” said she, “I can get any kind of mutton in an instant from the butcher’s.”

“Do you think, then,” answered the waiting-gentlewoman, “that I have the stomach of a horse, to eat mutton at this time of night? Sure you people that keep inns imagine your betters are like yourselves. Indeed, I expected to get nothing at this wretched place. I wonder my lady would stop at it. I suppose none but tradesmen and grasiers ever call here.” The landlady fired at this indignity offered to her house; however, she suppressed her temper, and contented herself with saying, “Very good quality frequented it, she thanked heaven!” “Don’t tell me,” cries the other, “of quality! I believe I know more of people of quality than such as you.—But, prithee, without troubling me with any of your impertinence, do tell me what I can have for supper; for, though I cannot eat horse-flesh, I am really hungry.” “Why, truly, madam,” answered the landlady, “you could not take me again at such a disadvantage; for I must confess I have nothing in the house, unless a cold piece of beef, which indeed a gentleman’s footman and the post-boy have almost cleared to the bone.” “Woman,” said Mrs. Abigail (so for shortness we will call her), “I entreat you not to make me sick. If I had fasted a month, I could not eat what had been touched by the fingers of such fellows. Is there nothing neat or decent to be had in this horrid place?” “What think you of some eggs and bacon, madam?” said the landlady. “Are your eggs new laid? are you certain they were laid to-day? and let me have the bacon cut very nice and thin; for I can’t endure anything that’s gross.—Prithee try if you can do a little tolerably for once, and don’t think you have a farmer’s wife, or some of those creatures, in the house.” —The landlady began then to handle her knife; but the other stopt her, saying, “Good woman, I must insist upon your first washing your hands; for I am extremely nice, and have been always used from my cradle to have everything in the most elegant manner.”

The landlady, who governed herself with much difficulty, began now the necessary preparations; for as to Susan, she was utterly rejected, and with such disdain, that the poor wench was as hard put to it to restrain her hands from violence as her mistress had been to hold her tongue. This indeed Susan did not entirely; for, though she literally kept it within her teeth, yet there it muttered many “marry-come-ups, as good flesh and blood as yourself;” with other such indignant phrases.

While the supper was preparing, Mrs. Abigail began to lament she had not ordered a fire in the parlour; but, she said, that was now too late. “However,” said she, “I have novelty to recommend a kitchen; for I do not believe I ever eat in one before.” Then, turning to the post-boys, she asked them, “Why they were not in the stable with their horses? If I must eat my hard fare here, madam,” cries she to the landlady, “I beg the kitchen may be kept clear, that I may not be surrounded with all the blackguards in town: as for you, sir,” says she to Partridge, “you look somewhat like a gentleman, and may sit still if you please; I don’t desire to disturb anybody but mob.”

“Yes, yes, madam,” cries Partridge, “I am a gentleman, I do assure you, and I am not so easily to be disturbed. Non semper vox casualis est verbo nominativus.” This Latin she took to be some affront, and answered, “You may be a gentleman, sir; but you don’t show yourself as one to talk Latin to a woman.”