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Updated: May 24, 2025
" A Cook-general, in a very respectable 'ouse'old a publican's, at the 'Four Alls' by Binton Bridges. Me bein' shy as you may 'ave noticed I 'adn't, as you might say, put it to 'er; an' likewise until the matter was settled I didn' like to tell 'Enery.
The only person in the trio who returned to the Kensington house entirely happy was Jane, who spent the greater part of the day in describing to Martha, the cook-general, the glories of Crosby Ledgers, and her own genteel appearance in Mrs. Meadows's blouse.
The light from the hall lamp fell dimly on a lank female form which stood on the doorstep. Out of the dusk a voice spoke to me. It said, 'I think you're wantin' a cook-general? I cried out in a loud voice, saying, 'I am. 'Well, I'm Elizabeth Renshaw. You wrote to me. I got your letter sent on from the Registry Office along with ninety others.
A little while ago this praise would have made her glow sweetly, but now it tasted sour in her mouth; she did not particularly wish to be a magnificent cook-general, a magnificent charwoman. All her nerves felt stretched as if they must snap and she must scream. Tremblingly she set a tray on the table. "Don't give me any, please." "Darling! No breakfast!" "I'll have some toast.
"What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by a lady-friend. "What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with the family. "That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he replied, uneasily. "Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. Gorman.
With lowered eyes and modest mien I was, of course, waiting for her to speak first. I did not wait long. Her voice, concise and direct, rapped out: 'So you require a cook-general? 'Yes er please, I murmured. Under her searching gaze my knees trembled, my pulses throbbed, a slight perspiration broke out on my forehead. My whole being seemed to centre itself in the mute inquiry: 'Shall I suit?
She has a tiny little house, she tells me, near Trafalgar Square, and fortunately she's got an excellent and devoted nurse, one of those rare treasures that questions nothing and is only interested in the business in hand. She and a cook-general make up the establishment. Before Mrs. Architect No. 1 became ill, Mr. Architect used to visit her there pretty regularly, and is assumed to be Mr.
Having no nursery they had no nurse no real nurse; they had a 'cook-general' and a 'nurse-housemaid' as the advertisements put it, and, in common with most persons who profess to be able to 'turn their hands to anything, they could do few things, and nothing well. So it fell to Esther and her mother to take care of the babies, and as Mrs.
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