書蟲5級《園會》女主人的貼身女仆

The lady's maid

Eleven o'clock. A knock at the door.

... I hope I haven't disturbed you, madam. You weren't asleep—were you? But I've just given my lady her tea, and there was a nice cup left, so I thought perhaps...

... Not at all, madam. I always make a cup of tea at this time. She drinks it in bed after she's said her prayers, to warm her up. I start to boil the water when she kneels down, and I always say to the water, 'Now, don't be ready too quick.' But it always boils long before my lady finishes her prayers. You see, madam, we know such a lot of people, and my lady has to mention all their names in her prayers—everyone. She keeps all their names in a little red book. Oh dear! Whenever we have a new visitor, and my lady says after they've gone, 'Ellen, bring me my little red book,' I feel quite wild, I really do.

And do you know, madam, she kneels right down on the hard carpet. It makes me worried sick to see it, knowing her the way I do. I've tried putting a soft woollen blanket down. But the first time I did it she gave me such a look—such a sweet, suffering look it was, madam. 'Did our Lord Jesus have soft woollen blankets, Ellen?' she said. But—I was younger then—I wanted to say, 'No, but our Lord Jesus wasn't as old as you, and He didn't have your poor bad back!' Terrible of me, wasn't it? But she's too good, you know, madam. When I went in to see if she was all right just now, and saw her lying there asleep—so pretty—I couldn't help thinking, 'Now you look just like your dear mother on her deathbed.'

... Yes, madam, I took care of everything after the death. Oh, she did look sweet. I did her hair—ever so soft and pretty it was—and I put the most lovely flowers all round her head. She looked a picture! I shall never forget those flowers.

... Only the last year, madam. She came to live with us after she became a bit—well—forgetful, as they say. Of course, she was never dangerous; she was the sweetest old lady. But what happened was—she thought she'd lost something. She couldn't sit still. All day long she used to search the house, up and down, up and down. When she saw me, she'd say, 'I've lost it; I've lost it,' just like a child. And I'd say, 'Come along and we'll have a nice game of cards.' But she'd take my hand—I was a favourite of hers—and whisper, 'Find it for me, Ellen. Find it for me.' Sad, wasn't it?

... No, she never got any better, madam. The last thing she ever said was—very slow, 'Look in—the—Look—in—' And then she was gone.

... No, madam, I never noticed it. Perhaps some girls. But you see, it's like this. I've got nobody but my lady. My mother died when I was four, and I lived with my grandfather, who had a hairdresser's shop. I used to sit under a table in the shop, brushing my doll's hair. I suppose I was copying the assistants. They were really kind to me. I used to sit there all day, as quiet as can be—the customers never knew I was there.

... But one day I managed to get a pair of scissors, and—would you believe it, madam? —I cut off all my hair! What a little monkey! Grandfather went mad, he was so angry. He picked up the red-hot curling tongs—I shall never forget it—caught hold of my hand and shut my fingers in the tongs. 'That'll teach you!' he said. It was an awful burn. You can still see the mark.

... Well, you see, madam, he'd been so proud of my hair. He used to sit me in a high chair, before the customers came, and give me such a beautiful hair-do. I remember the assistants all standing and watching. Grandfather used to give me a penny to sit still for him. But he always took it back afterwards. Poor Grandfather!

When he burned my hand, I was so frightened! Do you know what I did, madam? I ran away. Yes, I did, right down the street and round the corner. Oh dear, I must have looked funny, with my hand rolled up in my skirt and my hair sticking out all over my head. People must have laughed when they saw me...

... No, madam, Grandfather never forgave me. He couldn't even eat his dinner if I was in the room. So my aunt gave me a home. She was a dress-maker. Tiny little woman, she was. She had to stand on a chair to measure some of her ladies. And it was when I was helping her that I met my lady...

... Not so very young, madam. I was already thirteen. And I don't remember ever feeling I was—well—a child. You see, there was my uniform and one thing and another. My lady insisted on my wearing a proper uniform from the start.

... Oh yes—once I felt like a child! That was—funny! It was like this. My lady had her two little nieces staying with her, and there was a fair in a park nearby. 'Now, Ellen,' she said, 'I want you to take the two young ladies for a ride on the donkeys.'

Off we went. Quiet little girls, they were. They both held my hand. But when we came to the donkeys, they were too shy to go for a ride. So we stood and watched. Those donkeys were so beautiful! They were a lovely silver-grey colour and they had little red saddles and bells on their ears. And quite big girls—older than me—were riding them. And they looked so nice, just enjoying themselves. I don't know why, but when I saw those donkeys, with their little feet and their eyes—so gentle—and their big soft ears—well, I wanted more than anything in the world to ride on a donkey's back!

... Of course, I couldn't. I had to look after my young ladies. But all the rest of the day I thought about those donkeys. I had nothing but donkeys on my mind. I felt I would burst if I didn't tell someone; and there was no one to tell. But when I went to bed—I was sleeping in cook's bedroom at the time—as soon as the lights were out, I could see them again. My donkeys, with their neat little feet and sad eyes.

Well, madam, would you believe it, I waited for a long time and pretended to be asleep, and then I suddenly sat up and said, as loud as I could, 'I want to ride on a donkey. I want a donkeyride!' You see, I had to say it, so I pretended I was talking in my sleep. That's just what a silly child would do, isn't it?

... No, madam, never now. Of course, I wanted to when I was younger. But I never did. He had a little flower-shop. Funny, wasn't it? I've always loved flowers. We were having a lot of parties in the house at that time, and I was in and out of the flower-shop all the time. And Harry and I (his name was Harry) started arguing about what flowers were best—and that was how it began.

Flowers! You wouldn't believe it, madam, the flowers he used to give me. It was lilies more than once, and that's the honest truth. Well, of course, we were going to get married and live in rooms over the shop. I was going to arrange the flowers in the shop-window. Oh, how often I've arranged that window! Not really, of course, madam. Just in my dreams. I've done it all red and green for Christmas, and with a lovely star for Easter all made out of daffodils. I've put—well, that's enough about that.

The day came when we were going to choose our furniture. Shall I ever forget it? It was a Tuesday. My lady wasn't very well that afternoon. She didn't say anything, of course—she never complains. But she kept asking me if it was cold, and rubbing her little hands together. I knew she wasn't well. I didn't want to leave her, and I said, 'Shall I tell him that we'll go another day?'

Oh, no, Ellen,' she said, 'you can't disappoint your young man.' So sweet, madam, never thinking about herself. It made me feel worse than ever.

And then she dropped a little perfume bottle, madam, and she tried to bend right down and pick it up herself—a thing she never did. 'Whatever are you doing!' I cried, and I ran to stop her.

Well,' she said, smiling, 'I shall have to get used to doing things for myself now.' Oh, madam, I almost burst into tears when she said that! I couldn't stop myself, and I asked her if she would rather I didn't get married.

No, Ellen,' she said—that was how she spoke, madam, just like that—'No, Ellen, not for the world!' But while she said it, madam, I was looking in her mirror. Of course, she didn't know I could see her, and she put her little hand on her heart just like her dear mother used to, and she looked so sad... Oh, madam!

When Harry came, I had his letters all ready, and the ring, and a dear little silver brooch with a heart on it that he'd given me. I opened the door to him. I never gave him time to say a word. 'There you are,' I said. 'Take them all back,' I said, 'it's all over. I'm not going to marry you,' I said, 'I can't leave my lady.' White! He turned as white as a woman. I had to shut the door, and I stood there, shaking all over, until he went. Then I opened the door and I ran out into the middle of the road, and I just stood there... staring. People must have laughed if they saw me...

...What's that? The clock? Oh, madam, you should have stopped me! Let me cover up your feet. I always cover up my lady's feet, every night. And she always says, 'Goodnight, Ellen. Sleep well and wake up early!'

...Oh dear, I sometimes think... whatever would I do if anything happened... But thinking's no good, is it, madam? Thinking won't help. When I find myself doing that, I say to myself, 'Come along, Ellen! Stop it this moment, my girl! Stop that silly thinking...!'