Elders and Betters Read Free

“You are just in time for tea. Your room is ready. We remembered that you liked one large one better than two small.”
    â€œCook cannot sleep alone,” said the taller woman, in a flat, deep voice. “She is of too nervous a type.”
    â€œYou will like this room,” said Jenney, in almost excited assurance. “It is very large and bright. That is the window up there.”
    The housemaid raised her eyes to the window, putting back her head rather further than was necessary, and then sweeping her eyes from the window to the ground.
    â€œThere are only two real storeys to the house; that is, only three floors above the ground floor, if you count the small one you have to yourselves,” said Jenney, seeming to resort to complication to cover some truth. “You will like to go up, when you have had your tea.” Her tone drew attention to the more immediate prospect.
    â€œThere is a basement,” said Ethel, in a tone that added no more, as no more was necessary.
    â€œUnusual in the country,” said Cook, using her voice for the first time, and then not seeming to do so completely, as it could barely be heard.
    Ethel turned eyes of grave concern upon Cook.
    â€œI never know why maids in the country are supposed to require less privacy than those in towns,” said Jenney, as if speaking by the way.
    â€œHow is our luggage to come from the station?” said Ethel, in an even but somehow ruthless manner.
    â€œIt will come to-morrow with the master’s and the young gentlemen’s. It has all been thought out,” said Jenney, with a touch of triumph. “You need not worry about that. Have you things for to-night?”
    â€œI can manage for Cook and myself,” said Ethel, glancing at the bag in her hand.
    â€œWell, come in and put that down,” said Jenney, as if offering a further benefit. “You need not take it to the kitchen. Put it here in the hall.”
    Ethel glanced about the hall, as if it might be fraught with some risk, and walked on with her burden.
    â€œIt is only one more storey to carry it back,” she said, as if this could hardly be taken into account under present conditions.
    â€œHow did you come from the station?” said Jenney.
    â€œIn the fly,” said Ethel, in her deepest tones, glancing down the drive. “We could have driven up to the house, if we had known the path was so wide. Cook need not have taken a step.”
    Cook was short and thin and pale, with yellowish hair and lashes, no discernible brows, prominent, pale blue eyes, a violently receding mouth and chin, and a large, bare, oval forehead. Ethel was tall and dark and upright, and had an imposing presence in her professional garb. She believed that she bore a likeness to Claribel, and in height and in asymmetry and insignificance of feature she equalled, if she did not resemble her. The two maids often exchanged a glance, a practice that does not encourage an observer, and in this case did so less than in most. It seemed that their feeling had been used up when it passed from each other, and there been a full expenditure of it. If it was hinted thattheir devotion bordered on excess, Ethel would reply with quiet finality that they were first cousins. When they were asked their ages, she answered for both that they were about the same age. This was not true, as Cook was ten years the elder, and now over fifty; but Ethel resented the circumstance for her, and drew a veil over it. Cook never replied to questions; she merely looked at a questioner with a smile, which the latter could never be sure was not some other expression, as it took place so far behind the rest of her face. No one repeated the questions, and Jenney had no need to put them, as she relied on her instinct in such matters. No one knew Ethel’s surname, or knew for certain that Cook had any names. The latter was sensitive on the matter, and flushed when it was broached; and Ethel