Chapter II

Mrs. Bagley’s girl, Bridget, had a beau, and, in the course of events, was married. Her mistress, though exceedingly sorry to part with her, could of course make no objections to her working out her woman’s destiny. She was a good-hearted person, and did all she could to see the faithful girl, who had been almost a mother to her children, comfortably situated in her new relation.

Her first attempt to procure another good girl proved to be unsuccessful; for the new servant was, beyond the hope of remedy, slovenly and dirty. She was compelled to discharge her.

About this time Mrs. Veazie’s girl was discharged. The lady, profiting by the lesson she had received of her neighbor, had for a few months treated Margaret with kindness and consideration. The change was appreciated by the girl. She was ignorant and headstrong; but neither so ignorant nor headstrong as not to be able to understand the meaning of kind words and considerate actions.

Mrs. Veazie was astonished at the change in the temper of the girl; and, for a time, she persevered in maintaining the new order of things. But it is useless for any one to attempt to be gentle and kind in their speech and action, when there is neither gentleness nor kindness in the heart. A “change of heart,” in the language of the Scriptures, is as necessary to make an ill-tempered person amiable towards others, as it is in the working out of the more technical “profession” of religion. A “profession” of good nature is the first step towards piety.

When Mrs. Veazie relapsed, Margaret relapsed, and there was strife again. No sooner did the servant observe the unreasonableness of the mistress, than she was in open rebellion again, as saucy as ever.

“I am determined to send her off, Mrs. Bagley,” said she, as she was seated with her neighbor one afternoon.

“Send her off! Why, I thought she was doing nicely now.”

“So she was; but this morning a couple of tons of coal came, and, as I had no one to get it in, I told her she might do it. I am sure I spoke very pleasantly to her,” said Mrs. Veazie, with an abundance of self-complacency.

Mrs. Bagley held up both hands in astonishment.

“What did she say?”

“She told me very coolly that she had rather not do it. But I was angry then; I thought it was about time to be angry, too, when a girl answered me in that way; so I told her she was a lazy, good-for-nothing minx.”

“Did you?”

“Indeed I did.”

“Well, what did she say then?”

“‘The same to yourself, ma’am,’ says she. She has not been saucy before for a good while.”

“Didn’t it occur to you that your request was slightly unreasonable?”

“I’m sure it didn’t. Why, these girls are used to working in the fields in Ireland, digging turf and pounding stones. I don’t see why they should be so stuck up, when they come to America.”

“Well, I suppose, when they come to a country where even the rights of the poor are respected, they think better of themselves—very naturally too, I think. But, Mrs. Veazie, if you are going to discharge Margaret, I should like to take her.”

“You?”

“If you have no objection.”

“Of course not; but she never will suit you, I know.”

And Margaret went to live with Mrs. Bagley. She was an able, capable, and industrious girl, and her mistress immediately took a great liking to her. Margaret had her faults, the most prominent of which was a quick temper, that often prompted her to give a saucy or a spiteful answer before she was aware.

She had not been a week with Mrs. Bagley, before, without a reasonable provocation, she gave her mistress a short and crusty answer. No notice was taken of it, though the point was insisted upon and carried. A few days after, when she got a little perplexed, she was saucy; but Mrs. Bagley was as firm as she was even in her temper, and calmly rebuked the uncivil words. Margaret was abashed by the gentleness and decision of the rebuke, and readily understood with what manner of person she had to deal. She was conquered, and made as good a girl as the most obdurate of servant hunters could possibly desire.

In the course of the year Bridget’s husband was killed on the railroad, and the poor girl found herself again compelled to go out to service. Mrs. Bagley was well suited with Margaret, and did not feel at liberty to discharge her, especially as both parties were satisfied.

Mrs. Veazie had tried half a dozen girls since Margaret had left her, and, as usual, had been unable to retain them. It was with a thrill of satisfaction she heard that Bridget, “the prize of a girl,” wanted a place again, and she lost not a moment in making an engagement with her.

About a week after this important event, Mrs. Veazie came in hot haste over to Mrs. Bagley’s.

“Don’t you think,” exclaimed she, out of breath, “that Bridget has given me notice of her intention to leave.”

“To leave?”

“Yes; I don’t believe she meant to stay when she came.”

“I think she did. Bridget wouldn’t do a mean action, if she is an Irish girl.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“But how did it happen?”

“Why, she was as saucy as ever Margaret was in the world.”

“Bridget? Impossible!”

“I asked her as politely as though she had been a lady, if she wouldn’t be so kind as to black Mr. Veazie’s boots.”

“And she refused?”

“No; she did it. She said she would do it this time, but she had rather not have it as part of her work.”

“You couldn’t blame her, could you?”

“Of course I could; and I told her she was a lazy, good-for-nothing vixen, and that she’d have to do it every day, if she staid with me. Why, Irish girls at home have to black their masters’ boots.”

“But it is not the custom here.”

“It ought to be; and I told her, up and down, that she was not what she used to be when she lived with you. Upon that she told me she would leave. Did you ever see such luck as I have?” and Mrs. Veazie puffed with excitement. She really believed she was the most unfortunate woman in the world.

“To be plain with you, Mrs. Veazie, I don’t think Bridget was in the least to blame.”

“Not to blame?”

“No. When you set your girls to getting in coal and cleaning boots, you must expect them to be rebellious, especially when you follow it up with such hard words.”

Mrs. Veazie went out, and slammed the door after her. She has never crossed the threshold of her friend’s door since; but it was a small loss.

The moral of our sketch is sufficiently apparent. When we hear ladies complaining that they can’t keep a servant, we are a little disposed to doubt whether the fault is not in part upon their side.