CHAPTER IX
JOHN WESLEY AND LORENZO DOW AT LUNCHEON
Two days after her lecture to Mrs. Tolbridge, Miss Panney was again inThorbury, and, having finished the shopping which brought her there, shedetermined to go to see the doctor's wife, and find out if that lady hadacted on the advice given her. She had known Mrs. Tolbridge nearly allthat lady's life, and had always suspected in her a tendency to neglectadvice which she did not like, after the adviser was out of the way. Shedid not wish to be over-inquisitive, but she intended, in some quiet way,to find out whether or not the letter about which she had spoken sostrongly had been written. If it had not, she would take time to make upher mind what she should do. Kitty Tolbridge and she had scolded eachother often enough, and had had many differences, but they had never yetseriously quarrelled. Miss Panney did not intend to quarrel now, but ifshe found things as she feared they were, she intended to interfere in away that might make Kitty uncomfortable, and perhaps produce the sameeffect on herself and the doctor; but let that be as it might, sheassured herself there were some things that ought to be done, no matterwho felt badly about it.
She found the doctor's wife in a state of annoyance and disquiet, and wasgreatly surprised to be told that this condition had been caused by anote which had just been brought to her from her husband, stating that hehad been called away to a distant patient, and would not be able to comehome to luncheon.
"My dear Kitty!" exclaimed Miss Panney, "I should have thought you werethoroughly used to that sort of thing. I supposed a country doctor wouldmiss his mid-day meal about half the time."
"And so he does," said Mrs. Tolbridge; "but I was particularly anxiousthat he should lunch at home to-day, and he promised me that he would."
"Well," said the old lady, "you will have to bear up under it as wellas you can, and I hope they will give him something to eat wherever heis going."
Mrs. Tolbridge seemed occupied, and did not answer.
"Miss Panney," she said suddenly, "will you stay and take lunch with me?I should like it ever so much."
"Are you going to have strawberries?" asked Miss Panney.
Mrs. Tolbridge hesitated a little, and then replied, "Yes, we shallhave them."
"Very well, then, I'll stay. The Witton strawberries are small and sourthis year; and I haven't tasted a good one yet."
During the half hour which intervened before luncheon was announced, MissPanney discovered nothing regarding the matter which brought her there.She would ask no questions, for it was Kitty Tolbridge's duty tointroduce the subject, and she would give her a chance; but if she didnot do it in a reasonable time, Miss Panney would not only ask questions,but state her opinion.
When she sat down at the pretty round table, arranged for two persons,Miss Panney was surprised at the scanty supply of eatables. There was thetea-tray, bread and butter, and some radishes. Her soul rose in anger.
"Slops and fruit," she said to herself. "She isn't worthy to have anysort of a husband, much less such a one as she has."
There was a vase of flowers in the centre of the table; but although MissPanney liked flowers, at meal-times she preferred good honest food.
"Shall I give you a cup of tea?" asked her hostess.
The old lady did not care for tea, but as she considered that she couldnot eat strawberries on an empty stomach, she took some, and was justabout to cast a critical eye on the bread, when a maid entered, bearing adish containing two little square pieces of fish, covered with a greenishwhite sauce, and decorated with bits of water-cress.
As soon as Miss Panney's eyes fell upon this dish, she understood thesituation--Mrs. Tolbridge had actually fallen back upon Kipper. Kipperwas a caterer in Thorbury, and a good one. He was patronized by thecitizens on extraordinary festive occasions, but depended for his customprincipally upon certain families who came to the village for a fewmonths in the summer, and who did not care to trouble themselves withmuch domestic machinery.
"Kipper, indeed," thought the old lady; "that is the last peg. Acaterer's tid-bit for a hard-working man. If she would have her fishcooked properly in her own house, she could give him six times as muchfor half the money. And positively," she continued, in inward speech, asthe maid presented the bread and butter, "Kipper's biscuit! I suppose sheis going to let him provide her with everything, just as he does forthose rich people on Maple Avenue."
The fish was very good, and Miss Panney ate every morsel of it, but madeno remark concerning it. Instead of speaking of food, she talked of thedoings of the Methodist congregation in Thorbury, who were planning tobuild a new church, far more expensive than she believed they couldafford. She was engaged in berating Mr. Hampton, the minister, who, shedeclared, was actually encouraging his flock in their proposedextravagance, when the maid gave her a clean plate, and handed her a dishof sweetbread, tastefully garnished with clover blossoms and leaves. MissPanney stopped talking, gazed at the dish for a minute, and then helpedherself to a goodly portion of its contents.
"Feathers," she said to herself; "no more than froth and feathers to aman who has been working hard half a day, and as to the extravagance ofsuch flimsy victuals--" She could keep quiet no longer, she was obligedto speak out, and she burst into a tirade against people who calledthemselves pious, and yet, wilfully shutting their eyes, were about toplunge into wicked wastefulness. She ate as she talked, however, and shehad brought up John Wesley, and was about to give her notion of what hewould have had to say about a fancy church for a Thorbury congregation,when the plates were again changed, and a dainty dish of sirloin steak,with mushrooms, and thin slices of delicately browned potatoes, was putbefore her.
"Well!" inwardly ejaculated the old lady, "something substantial at last.But what money this meal must have cost!"
As she cut into the thick, juicy piece of steak, which had been broileduntil it was cooked enough, and not a minute more, Miss Panney's minddropped from the consideration of congregational finances into that ofdomestic calculation. She knew Kipper's charges; she knew everybody'scharges.
"That dish of fish," she said to herself, "was not less than sixty cents;the sweetbreads cost a dollar, if they cost a cent; this sirloin, withmushrooms, was seventy-five cents; that, with the French biscuit, is twodollars and a half for a family lunch for two people."
Miss Panney did not let her steak get cold, for she could talk and eat atthe same time, and the founder of Methodism never delivered so scorchinga tirade against pomp and show in professors of religion as she gaveforth in his name.
Mrs. Tolbridge had been very quiet during the course of the meal, butshe was now constrained to declare that she had nothing to do with theplans for the new Methodist church, and, in fact, she knew very littleabout them.
"Some things concern all of us," retorted Miss Panney. "Suppose BishopWhite, when he was ordained and came back to this country, had found alittle village--"
Her remarks were stopped by a dish of salad. The young and tender leavesof lettuce were half concealed by a mayonnaise dressing.
"This makes three dollars," thought Miss Panney, as she helped herself,"for Kipper never makes any difference, even if you send your own lettuceto be dressed." And then she went on talking about Bishop White, and whathe would have thought of a little cathedral in every country town.
"But the Methodists do not have cathedrals," said Mrs. Tolbridge.
"Which makes it all the worse when they try to build theirmeeting-houses to look like them," replied the old lady.
It was a long time since Miss Panney had tasted any mayonnaise dressingas good as this. But she remembered that the strawberries were to come,and did not help herself again to salad.
"If one of the old Methodist circuit-riders," she said, "after toilingover miles of weary road in the rain or scorching sun, and preachingsometimes in a log meeting-house, sometimes in a barn, and often in aprivate house, should suddenly come upon--"
The imaginary progress of the circuit-rider was brought to a stop by thearrival of the last cours
e of the luncheon. From a pretty glass dishuprose a wondrous structure. Within an encircling wall of delicate,candied tracery was heaped a little mound of creamy frost, the sides ofgreat strawberries showing here and there among the veins and specks ofcrimson juice.
Miss Panney raised her eyes from this creation to the face of herhostess.
"Kitty," said she, "is this the doctor's birthday?"
"No," answered Mrs. Tolbridge, with a smile; "he was born in January."
"Yours then, perhaps?"
Mrs. Tolbridge shook her head.
"A dollar and a half," thought the old lady, "and perhaps more. Fivedollars at the very least for the meal. If the doctor makes that muchbetween meals, day in and day out, she ought to be thankful."
The dainty concoction to which the blazing-eyed old lady now appliedherself was something she had never before tasted, and she became of theopinion that Kipper would not get up a dish of that sort, and so much ofit, for less than two dollars.
"There was a Methodist preacher," she said, spoonful after spoonful ofthe cold and fruity concoction melting in her mouth as she spoke, "aregular apostle of the poor, named Lorenzo Dow. How I would like to havehim here. He was a man who would let people know in trumpet tones, by dayand by night, what he thought of wicked, wasteful prodigality, no matterhow pleasant it might be, how easy it might be, or how proper in peoplewho could afford it. Is there to be anything more, Kitty Tolbridge?"
The doctor's wife could not restrain a little laugh.
"No," she said, "there is to be nothing more, unless you will take alittle tea."
Miss Panney pushed back her chair and looked at her hostess. "Tea after ameal like that! I should think not. If you had had champagne during theluncheon, and coffee afterwards, I shouldn't have been surprised."
"I did not order coffee," said Mrs. Tolbridge, "because we don't take itin the middle of the day, but--"
"You ordered quite enough," said her visitor, severely; "and I will saythis for Kipper, that he never got up a better meal, although--"
"Kipper!" interrupted Mrs. Tolbridge. "Kipper had nothing to do with thisluncheon. It was prepared by my new cook. It is the first meal she hasgiven us, and I am so sorry the doctor could not be here to eat it."
Miss Panney rose from her chair, and gazed earnestly at Mrs. Tolbridge.
"What cook?" she asked, in her deepest tones.
"Jane La Fleur," was the reply; "the woman you urged me to write to. Isent the letter that afternoon. Yesterday she came to see me, and Iengaged her. And while we were at breakfast this morning, she arrivedwith her boxes, and went to work."
"And she cooked that meal? She herself made all those things?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Tolbridge, "she even churned the butter and made thebiscuit. She says she is going to do a great deal better than this whenshe gets things in order."
"Better than this!" ejaculated Miss Panney. "Do you mean to say, KittyTolbridge, that this sort of thing is going to happen three times a day?What have you done? What sort of a creature is she? Tell me all about itthis very minute."
Mrs. Tolbridge led the way to the parlor, and the two sat down.
"Now," said the doctor's wife, "suppose you finish what you were sayingabout the Methodist church, then--"
Miss Panney stamped her foot.
"Don't mention them!" she cried. "Let them build tower on tower, spire onspire, crypts, picture galleries, altars, confessionals, if they like.Tell me about your new cook."
"It will take a long time to tell you all about her, at least all shetold me," said Mrs. Tolbridge, "for she talked to me more than an hourthis morning, working away all the time. Her name is Jane La Fleur, butshe does not wish any one to call her Jane. She would like the family touse her last name, and the servants can do the same, or call her 'madam.'She is the widow of two chefs, one a Florentine, named Tolati, and theother a Frenchman, La Fleur. She acted as 'second' to each of these, andin that way has thoroughly learned the art of Italian cooking, as well asthe French methods. She herself is English, and she has told me aboutsome of the great families she and her husbands lived with."
"Kitty," said Miss Panney, "I should think she was trying to impose uponyou with a made-up story; but after that luncheon I will believe anythingshe says about her opportunities. How in the world did you get such awoman to come to you?"
"Oh, the whole business of engaging her was very simple," answeredMrs. Tolbridge. "Her last husband left her some money, and she came tothis country on a visit to relatives, but she loved her art so much,she said--"
"Did she call it art?" asked Miss Panney.
"Yes, she did--that she felt she must cook, and she lived for some timewith a family named Drane, in Pennsylvania, with whom the doctor usedto be acquainted. She had a letter from them which fully satisfied me.On her part she said she would be content with the salary I paid mylast cook."
"Did she call it salary?" exclaimed the old lady.
"That was the word she used," answered Mrs. Tolbridge, "and as I saidbefore, the only question she asked was whether or not my husband wasin trade."
"What did that matter?" asked the other.
"It seemed to matter a great deal. She said she had never yet lived witha tradesman, and never intended to. She was with Mrs. Drane, the widow ofa college professor, for several months, and when the family found theycould no longer afford to keep a servant who could do nothing but cook,La Fleur returned to her relatives, and looked for another position; butnot until I came, she said, had any one applied who was not in trade."
"She must be an odd creature," said Miss Panney.
"She is odder than odd," was the answer. At this moment the maid came inand told Mrs. Tolbridge that the madam cook wanted to see her. The ladyof the house excused herself, and in a few minutes returned, smiling.
"She wished to tell me," 'said she, "before my visitor left, that thename of the 'sweet' which she gave us at luncheon is _la promesse_, beingmerely a promise of what she is going to do, when she gets about hereverything she wants."
"Kitty Tolbridge," said Miss Panney, solemnly, "whatever happens, don'tmind that woman's oddity. Keep your mind on her cooking, and don'tconsider anything else. She is an angel, and she belongs to the verysmallest class of angels that visit human beings. You may find, by thedozen, philanthropists, kind friends, helpers and counsellors, the mostloving and generous; but a cook like that in a Thorbury family is as rareas--as--as--I can't think of anything so rare. I came here, Kitty, tofind out if you had written to that woman, and now to discover that thewhole matter has been settled in two days, and that the doors of Paradisehave been opened to Dr. Tolbridge--for you know, Kitty, that the Gardenof Eden was truly Paradise until they began to eat the wrong things--Ifeel as if I had been assisting at a miracle."
The Girl at Cobhurst Page 9