...Mary listened to her with a grave, puzzled expression. The - TopicsExpress



          

...Mary listened to her with a grave, puzzled expression. The native servants she had been used to in India were not in the least like this.. They were obsequious and servile and did not presume to talk to their masters as if they were their equals. They made salaams and called them protector of the poor and names of that sort. Indian servants were commanded to do things, not asked. It was not the custom to say please and thank you and Mary had always slapped her Ayah in the face when she was angry. She wondered what this girl would do if one slapped her in the face. She was round, rosy, good-natured-looking creature, but she had a sturdy way which made Mistress Mary wonder if she might not even slap back--if the person who slapped her was only a little girl. You are a strange servant, she said from her pillows, rather haughtily. Martha sat up on her heels, with her blackingbrush in her hand, and laughed, without seeming the least out of temper. Eh! I know that, she said, if there was a grand Missus at Misselthwaite I should never have been even one of th under housemaids. I might have been let to be scullery maid but Id never have been let upstairs. Im too common an I talk too much Yorkshire. But this is a funny house for all its so grand. Seems like theres neither Master nor Mistress except Mr. Picher an Mrs. Medlock. Mr. Craven, he wont be troubled about anythin when hes here, an hes nearly always away. Mrs. Medlock gave me th place out of kindness. She told me she could never have done it if Misselthwaite had been like other big houses. Are you going to be my servant, Mary asked, still in her imperious little Indian way. Martha began to rub her grate again. Im Mrs. Medlocks servant, she said stoutly, an shes Mr. Cravens--but Im to do the housemaids work up here and wait on you a bit. But you wont need much waitin on. Whos going to dress me, demanded Mary. Martha sat up on her heels again and stared. She spoke in broad Yorkshire in her amazement. Canna tha dress thysen! she said... -The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
Posted on: Sun, 17 Aug 2014 06:51:01 +0000

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