LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2142, 6 January 1881, Page 3

LITERATURE.

THE NEW GIKL. [From the “ Weekly Alta California.” ‘ Now, Chailie, you’ll be sure to remember ?’ ‘ To remember what ?’ said Mr Meredith, with a hopeless expression of insanity on his countenance Kate Meredith dropped both hands despairingly at her sides. * Charlie!’ she exclaimed, ‘you don’t mean that you hove forgotten already P’ ‘ My dear,’ said Mr Meredith, fumbling in the depths of his overcoat pocket for a missing glove, ‘ I may not have forgotten—but I don’t exactly remember. •’ ‘ The oysters !’ suggested his wife. * Oh, yes, the oysters,’ said Meredith. ‘ And the two ounces of double zephyr scarlet wool ’ * Exactly.’ ‘ And the depot hack to be waiting at two o’clock for your cousin from Philadelphia.’ Mr Meredith slapped one hand on the table. * She is coming to-day, I declare to goodness !' I e ejaculated. ‘ And a dozen Havana oranges for dessert, and two pounds of white grapes and some of those delicious little Naples bircuits and macoaroons—oh, and let them send up a girl from St Clair’s.’ ‘ A—which V * A girl, you goose. For general housework. Phoebe went home this morning with faceacho, and 1 can’t be left alone with company coming and all. Mind she’s a good cook and understands waiting at table.’ And Mr Meredith rushed off to catch the 9.30 express, with a kaleidoscopic confusion of grapes, zephyr, wool, depot, hacks, oysters and servant maids careering through his brain, which bodes ill for Mrs Meredith’s domestic plans. While that lady, clasping both hands over her head in a sort of tragic despair, rushed down into the kitchen, where a very goodlooking young man of two or three and twenty was on his knees in front of the range trying to coax a most unwilling fire to bum. ‘ Well ?’ said he. ‘Tom,’ cried she hysterically, ‘canyon make a lobster salad ?’ ‘ Like a book,’ said Tom. ‘ And coffee 1’ ‘ I learned in Paris. ’ ‘ Good. And I can make buttermilk biscuit—and between us we can get up a decent lunch for a young lady from Philadelphia. As for dinner ’ 1 Well V again remarked the young man with the soot betmndged nose. ‘ Providence must provide,’ sighed the matron. ‘ There’s an old chintz-colored rooster in the barnyard. If I could catch him, I’d have a chicken stew.’ * Tom, did you ever make s. chicken stew V ‘ No.' * Then you do not know what you are talking about,’ said the lady, with some asperity. ‘ Yes, I do, too. Onions, potatoes, celery, pearl barley, with a pinch of salt— ’ ‘ Nonsense 1’ interposed Mrs Meredith. *Go pick that lobster out of its shell, and leave off romancing. You are a deal better at poetry and newspaper sketches than yon are la the kitchen, though to be sure,’ with a twinge of conscience, ‘goodness knows what I should do without you just at this particular emergency, you dear old darling.’ The lobster was only half picked out of its shell, the buttermilk biscuit was still anmixed, and Mrs Meredith, with a pockethandkerchief tied around her pretty brown hair was dusting the little drawing-room, when there came a ring at the door bell. She put the turbanded head out of the window in a moat unceremonious manner. 4 Who is there P’ she demanded in a high contralto. * Does Mrs Meredith live here ?' retorted a woman’s voice. And at the same instant the young matron canght sight of a neat blaok leather bog, a black alpaca dress, and a shawl of the plainest Highland plaid. 4 It’s the new girl, thank providence,’ said Mrs Meredith, as she ran down the stairs, thanking honest Charlie in her heart for his unexpected promptitude. ‘Come in,’ said she, opening the door wide,’ * I am so glad yon are punctual, my good girl. From the Clair’s Intelligence Bureau, I suppose. No, don’t take off your things up here ; the servant’s room is below stairs; you m»y as well come directly down to the kitchen. ’

She led the way down, followed by the new girl, whose countenance bore a rather bewildered expression. ‘ What Is your name ?’ she asked, patroniaingly. * My name? Oh, it's Martha,’ replied the stranger, in some confnsion. ‘ Martha T’ critically repeated Mrs Meredith. ‘ What an mgly name! I think I shall call yon Pattie. Have you good references V ‘ I—believe so.’ ‘I think,’ said Mrs Meredith, surveying her from tip to toe, ’ ‘ you are a little overdressed for your situation, Pattie ; but, of course, you have some plainer clothes in your trunk, when it comes T ‘ The stranger lifted a pair of grave blue eyes to the tall form, girded around with a towel, who was vigorously wrestling with the claws of a stupendous lobster at the table beyond. * Do yon keep a man cook ?’ asked the girl. Mrs Meredith drew herself np. ‘ Certainly not. This is my brother, Mr Sslwyn, who is kindly assisting me to make a salad,’ * But he is not doing it right. He will never get the meat out of the shell in that way. Let me show yon, Mr Belwyn.’ And with deft fingers she loosened the luscious white fibre from the scarlet shell in a manner that made Mr Selwyn cry ‘ Bravo !’ ‘ And now, Pattie, I will show you where the things are, and .‘cave you to get np as nice a lunch as you can for 2.30 o’clock ; we are expecting my husband’s cousin from Philadelphia. I want everything in perfect order.’ * I will finish the salad, ’ said Tom, who had secretly been observing the pretty face and trim figure of the rew domestic, ‘now that I have commenced it. But you need not look perturbed, Pattie, if that is your name. I will be careful not to get in your way. And you ask my sister if I am not a handy sort of a fellow around the kitchen.’ Kate shook her head surreptitiously at Tom behind the screen, but he resolutely affected not to perceive the warning gesture, Half an hour afterward he came np to the dining-room, where Mrs Meredith was arranging her beat lilac and gold china. ‘Kate, she is a jewel. A gem of the first water 1 Depend upon it, she has not always worked in the kitchen- I quoted Shakespoare, apropos of something or other, I do not remember what, and she recognised the grand old words at once—her eyes brightened, and yon should have seen the color come into her cheeks.’ * Quoting Shakespeare to a common kitchen girl!’ cried Mrs Meredith in amazement. ‘ But I tell you the is not a common kitchen girl.’ , , . , ‘ I don’t believe In high life below stairs, said his sister disdainfully. The lunch came np at 2.30 in perfect order, but no cousin from Philadelphia arrived, no hack rolled np to the door. ‘How provoking!' said Kate. ‘Miss Meredith must have missed some connecting train. Charlie will be so vexed. But, however, I do notso much mind company coming in at any time, now that I have got an. excellent girl.’ , , The dinner of delicately roasted quails and rabbit fricassee, with a dessert of custard and jelly was duly served at precisely 7, o’clock, at which hour Mr Meroditu bounced in, hot and flushed with the haste he had made. ‘ Where is she V ‘ Where is who ?’ cried Kate. ‘ My cousin from Philadelphia.’ ‘ Oh ! She has not come.’ * Not come ?' ‘ No.' Mr Meredith draw a sigh of mingled regret and relief.’ ‘ Then, after all. it is not so very unlucky, said he. ‘ What is not so unlucky ? My dear CharloSj you are expressing yourself altogether in riddles.’ ‘ That I forgot all about the oysters and the 7.«nhyr wool, and the servant girl.’ * Turgot V « Yes—forgot. Isn't that plain English P

‘ But you did not forget,’ remonstrated Mrs Meredith, ‘Yon sent her. She’s here r«-v in the kitchen.’ Mr Meredith started; * I bare sent no one Never thought of the girl from that moment to this. I give yon my word and honor.’ ‘ Then who did send her V ejaculated his wife slowly : * Bing the bell. Let ns have her up.. Who knows but she is one of those confidence women, with an eye to the forks and spoons ’ As ho spoke he jerked the bell-oord with some energy In a minute or so the new girl came up coartesying. Mr Meredith uttered an exclamation of arotziment. ‘why, it is Martha Meredith?’ shouted he. l ltis my cousin from Philadelphia.’ And he clasped her in his arms, with a shower of kisses which made honest Tom’s hair stand on end. ‘ I wish she was my cousin from Phils, delphia,’ muttered he in a siege whisper, aside. Kate turned as scarlet as a pepper pod. ‘Oh, good gracious !’ she cried, clasping her little hands nervonsly, ‘ and I took her for a ocok. ’ ‘ And I am a cook when occasion requires. Cousin Kate,’said pretty Martha Meredith making her peace with o kiss. ‘Do not be vexed at me for humoring the joke ; indeed I could not help it. And I will show yon how to moke meringues glaces and the Neapolitan cremes to-morrow.' And they all sat happily down together to the mast quails and fricasseed rabbits. And Kate and Martha went to the International Bureau _ to-morrow, established a Milesian damsel in the kitchen, who was not at all incongruous in her surroundings, and Tom, leaning over his sister’s shoulder, whispered waggishly—‘Didn’t I toll you she was a gem of - the first water.’