LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume XXIII, Issue 2413, 29 December 1881, Page 4

LITERATURE.

4» «BOYCOTTED.' TFrom tho 'Burlington Magazine.'] Wo are • Boycotted.' Yea ; ' Boyootted ' in tho fullest of the term. All our servants have gone—men servants and maid Bervants. From the cook to tho pantry boy —butler, housemaids, ladiss' maid—all art gone, has; and bageage; all protesting against going, yet all afraid to stay. And we are alone in our glory, and, strange to relate, our spirits have risen in consequence —gone up to fever height, in fact. Here we are—the Desmonds of Castle Desmond —alone, ntterly alone. Bereft of household servants, of farm laborers, of coachman, groom—all, not fjrgetting the dairy maid, 'and a dozen cows waiting to be milked.' What are we to do?

' Fight It out,' Gerry declares stoutly, with a gleam in his grey eye* ; and we all with triumphant clamour echo his sentiments.

'Of course we must never give in. I should think not. Give in, indeed !' exclaim the clear, defiant younp voices ; for there is a flavour of delicious excitement about It all, and wo feel like war horses scenting tha battle from afar, and we are all more or less eager for the fray. Mamma alone weeps and walls with her youngest born at her Bide, and looks pathetically at Gerry, her eldest son and master, and owner of Castle Desmond and its surrounding broad acres. ' Nan is going to stay with me,' announoeß the youDgest born with charming egotism ; ' so she shan't suffer a moment's uneasiness.'

Poor old nurse, she alone is faithful; but what can she do?

' Heavens ! I believe you have all forgotten that awful man is coming tonight,' exolaims Eily tragically. ' Gerry, you must telegraph and stop him.' ' I can't ; he is on his road hoars ago ; and what is to prevent him coming, I should like to know ?

'What is to prevent him"? Why, everythltg. Who is to cook, or wait at table, or '

' Make his bed V Solemnly this last comes from the irrepressible youngest born, whereupon we all langh. 1 By Jovo ! Yes ; I never thought of that,' muses Gerry ; ' and Tremaine is such a terrible fellow for form, and all that sort of thing.' Nora looks up from somo work she ia pretending to do. 'We oould stand "Boycotting'' by ourselves, but I don't see how we really could have a stranger in the house.' ' I have an Idea.' My Ideas are generally unique of their kind, so the five pair of eyes turn on me at once. ' Oat with it, Mab.' And I cry out excitedly, ' Eily, will you help me ? You and I can be the servants, and wait ut table and everything, and Colonel Tremaine will never know. Oh, it will be grand fun. Now, what do you think of my idea ? ' ' fosh,' from Gerry. •Delightful,' from Bily. And for half an hour we talk and better talk, but in the end I carry my point, and we dash <ff to work at our scheme by ourselves. Mamma is too broken down and nervous to care what we do, and Gerry walks about as if he had the world on his shoulders; so Eily and I carry all before us, and work like slave s to the detriment of our hands, for we are novices at cookery, and surely no cooks were ever so black or so smutty as we two. Our efforts are something almost superhuman ; and were it not for the real gravity of ' Boycotting,' we would enjoy it all thoroughly. Milking time is the worst. There stand the cows stalled in by Gerry, and there stand the pails, but where is the milk? Gerry works away with his face very red, hut with very little result. lam seated on a little stool, a little afraid of the cow it must be confessed, but still struggling manfully, manfully, and yet the milk won't come. Eily ditto, laughing, and telling us she is getting on beautifully. 'lt Is all a knack, Mab. Why I have extracted nearly a pint.' 'A devilish hard knack,' in a smothered voice from Gerry, with his face buried in a big red cow. •Steady, Cowslip, steady.' But Cowslip, with one kick and a spring, sends me on my back ignominiously—pail, stool and all flying; and my precious pint of milk finds a resting place in the straw. Otherwise there is no damage done, and I return to the charge. For three hours we are working at those miserable cows, and at last—very hot, very tired—we toil into the dairy with our milk pails. ' By Jove ! I had no idea it was such hard work,' Gerry says, wiping his forehead, ' I don't envy the pretty maid who went amilking,' I say laughing; 'I thought a dairy was always suoh a nioe place, with the led floor, the oream and all the rest of it; but I now see a dairymaid's place is no uinecure." Gerry pulls out his watoh. ' I must get the dog-cart and drive over to meet Tremaine,' Eily looks np from skimming the cream. ' Is it safe for you to go alone ? ' ' Ch, nonsense. It is safe enough.' And he goes. Eily and I can think of nothing but acting up to our new charaoters as the domestics of the Desmond family. Our dresses, caps and aprons are all perfeot of their kind, and even mamma smiles a wan smile as I rehearse a little for her benefit, and bring frc-ah coals for the drawing-room fire and brush up the hearth in the deftest fashion imaginable. Dot, all befrilled and bebowed by Nan's careful Sogers, as if < Boycotting ' was a thing unknown, watches with his big eyes. ' la Mab making a play, mamma ? ' 'Yes, my darling.'

' The child will tell Colonel Tremaine the first thing,' remarks Ely, as she draws the curtains, and then whisks round on Dot suddenly. 'Dot, if you tell, I'll—l'll ' Boycott' yo ;,' she says in an awful voice. And the youngest born, awed by the threat, promises 'not to tell—oh, not anyone.' * She will all the same, I feel convinced,' Eily says, as we depart to the kitchen ; ' what a nnisance a child is coming in at tho end of a large grown-up family ! ' After which speech she betakes herself to the mysterios of mashing potatoes. Norah, the beauty of the family, hus arranged the dinner-table to her liking, and is now dressed and awaiting Colonel Tremaine's arrival in the drawing-room. ' I would feel easier if Dot was in bed,' I say. ' Remember I am Susan and yon are Mary, Eily.' ' No, Mab, I am Pusan ; the name suits me beet. Oh, that wretohed Colonel; I hope he likes popper in his soup, for the head of the castor has gone in.' ' Never mind. Eily, who i» to bring him his hot water in the morning ? ' " You must,' promptly ; ' you look awfully like a housemaid, Mab ; and besides I should laugh, I know I should.' 'But I couldn't go into his room,' In horrified accent;; ' Eily I couldn't; and he must open his shutters for himself ; and you know I could just knock at his door and say, ' Your hot water, sir,'' ' And he will say, ' Come in," laughs Eilv; • oh, Mab, it is glorious, and perhaps he will give no each half a sovereign when he goes away.' A loud ring at the door ! Ho has come; and with my heart in my mouth, and trying to look prim and demure, I proceed to answer the summons.

Opening the hall door wide, I sen a tall figure enveloped in an ulster, standing on the steps. Gerry is in tho dog ' I shall be in directly,' he calls out, and drives the trap round to the yard, having no one to do it for him

' Will you please come to the drawingroom, sir!' I whisper timidly, and surely no handmaiden had ever such a small voice before.

He is straggling oat of his coat and mufflers, ana I watoh him, bursting with aransocent the while at the joke of tho thing. He is very tall, very dignified—a proper sort of man, and it would never do to let him suapeut the harmless ruse we are playing on him. He Is to be here for only two days, and surely we can keep up the farce for that short space of time. There is dignity even in the way he unwinds the yards of white cashmere from his throat and lays it down on his coat. He has a very grand manner, and he is nice-looking, too, quite a handsome man, just the age I like—about forty. What a pit; I am only the servant. But he has shaken himself together, and passing his hand over his hair and straightening

himself as if he was on parade, signifies that he is ready, and «o I precede him aoross the hall, and throwing open the drawing-room door, announce —'Colonel Tremaine !' with a floari'-h. and retire, feeling that the stage haa lost a great and shining Jight in me. Oh, the dishing up of the dinner, the heat of our faces, and the desperation of our monner! Shall I ever forget it ? Gerry paid us a flying visit just as the soup is being poured into the tnreen. « It is all right ' ho saya, hurriedly ; ' Tremaine is delighted with evorything, and ha3u't an idoa we're Boyootted. Mab, you look splendid. Don't laugh mind, girls, at dinner.' And off he goes, and the work of dishingup progresses. • Jiily, turkeys don't keep their legs up like that.'

« I can't help it,' Eily cries desperately, straggling with the birds' long yellow legs that are held up towards heaven snpplicatingly, while the unfortunate turkey goes bumping and steaming about the table, and refuses to get info shape or form. 'Ho will think it is the Irish fashion of trussing.'

I oannot speak for laughing as Kily settles the bird in a dish, with its logs in the air.

' Mab, you go on with the soup. See, he is looking more natural, and the beef is really beautifully done, and the sauce does away with the effect of this animal's legs, I thins.'

'Yes,' I answer dubiously, looking at the white sauce flowing round, and the long strings of celery hanging like garters round the terrible yellow anfeleß of that most miserable bird. But, putting a good face on the matter, I carry in the soup, feeling a little norvous as I announce dinner and see them all coming in. Gerry gives me one delighted look. Mamma is murmuring to Colonel Tremaine about the state of the country, and her fears for Gerry's safety, and Norah fs acting her part to perfection. So they take their placep, and Eily and I hand round the soup without any disaster.

Sherry with soup, and I gravely fill Colonel Tremaine's glass and go round the table. The pepper in the s >up makes them all cough, but the conversation goes evenly on. and we are wait'ng admirably. ' I thought you had more sisters, Desmond ? ' the colonel asks, and J ily dashes off with more haste than sense, and I hear her smothering a laugh outside. (To be continued?)