The Legacy of Cain

"Why not?" I inquired.

"Because your father is not a man—"

I was rude enough to interrupt her: "What is he, then?"

"An angel," Miss Jillgall answered, solemnly. "A destitute earthly creature like me must not look up as high as your father. I might be dazzled."

This was rather more than I could endure patiently. "Let us try," I suggested, "if we can't understand each other, at starting."

Miss Jillgall's little eyes twinkled in their bony caverns. "The very thing I was going to propose!" she burst out.

"Very well," I went on; "then, let me tell you plainly that flattery is not relished in this house."

"Flattery?" She put her hand to her head as she repeated the word, and looked quite bewildered. "Dear Helena, I have lived all my life in East Flanders, and my own language is occasionally strange to me. Can you tell me what flattery is in Flemish?"

"I don't understand Flemish."

"How very provoking! You don't understand Flemish, and I don't understand Flattery. I should so like to know what it means. Ah, I see books in this lovely room. Is there a dictionary among them?" She darted to the bookcase, and discovered a dictionary. "Now I shall understand Flattery," she remarked—"and then we shall understand each other. Oh, let me find it for myself!" She ran her raw red finger along the alphabetical headings at the top of each page. "'FAD.' That won't do. 'FIE.' Further on still. 'FLE.' Too far the other way. 'FLA.' Here we are! 'Flattery: False praise. Commendation bestowed for the purpose of gaining favor and influence.' Oh, Helena, how cruel of you!" She dropped the book, and sank into a chair—the picture, if such a thing can be, of a broken-hearted old maid.

I should most assuredly have taken the opportunity of leaving her to her own devices, if I had been free to act as I pleased. But my interests as a daughter forbade me to make an enemy of my father's cousin, on the first day when she had entered the house. I made an apology, very neatly expressed.

She jumped up—let me do her justice; Miss Jillgall is as nimble as a monkey—and (Faugh!) she kissed me for the second time. If I had been a man, I am afraid I should have called for that deadly poison (we are all temperance people in this house) known by the name of Brandy.

"If you will make me love you," Miss Jillgall explained, "you must expect to be kissed. Dear girl, let us go back to my poor little petition. Oh, do make me useful! There are so many things I can do: you will find me a treasure in the house. I write a good hand; I understand polishing furniture; I can dress hair (look at my own hair); I play and sing a little when people want to be amused; I can mix a salad and knit stockings—who is this?" The cook came in, at the moment, to consult me; I introduced her. "And, oh," cried Miss Jillgall, in ecstasy, "I can cook! Do, please, let me see the kitchen."

The cook's face turned red. She had come to me to make a confession; and she had not (as she afterward said) bargained for the presence of a stranger. For the first time in her life she took the liberty of whispering to me: "I must ask you, miss, to let me send up the cauliflower plain boiled; I don't understand the directions in the book for doing it in the foreign way."

Miss Jillgall's ears—perhaps because they are so large—possess a quickness of hearing quite unparalleled in my experience. Not one word of the cook's whispered confession had escaped her.

"Here," she declared, "is an opportunity of making myself useful! What is the cook's name? Hannah? Take me downstairs, Hannah, and I'll show you how to do the cauliflower in the foreign way. She seems to hesitate. Is it possible that she doesn't believe me? Listen, Hannah, and judge for yourself if I am deceiving you. Have you boiled the cauliflower? Very well; this is what you must do next. Take four ounces of grated cheese, two ounces of best butter, the yolks of four eggs, a little bit of glaze, lemon-juice, nutmeg—dear, dear, how black she looks. What have I said to offend her?"

The cook passed over the lady who had presumed to instruct her, as if no such person had been present, and addressed herself to me: "If I am to be interfered with in my own kitchen, miss, I will ask you to suit yourself at a month's notice."

Miss Jillgall wrung her hands in despair.