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Updated: June 5, 2025
She opened them one after another, with a frown or a look of satisfaction, classifying them in heaps as she read, and occasionally remembering her coffee or her toast. The parlourmaid waited on her, but knew very well and resented the knowledge that Miss Marvell was scarcely aware of her existence, or her presence in the room. But presently the lady at the table asked
Then somebody else put on his dinner-clothes and looked the finest man in the world. Then you dished up the hot part of the dinner, and the creamy sweet was all ready at the other end of the table so easy to arrange these things gracefully without a parlourmaid, you know and absolutely everything was accomplished. You sat down. Love was about and around you.
Clayhanger exhaled impatient scorn and went upstairs. "This your stuff?" the Alderman questioned, pointing with his stick to the kit-bag and strange packages on the hall floor. "Yes," said George, and to the parlourmaid: "You can put it all in the taxi, May. Come along in, uncle." "Don't hurry me, boy. Don't hurry me." "Where are you staying?" "Russell ... Bit awkward, this about Lois!"
At that she started to her feet, but paused again at the door. And perhaps who knows? her housemaid was the worst of the lot, for she affected an almost incredible stupidity with regard to the instrument, and pretended not to be able either to speak through it or to understand its cacklings. She had got no further than the garden-door into her house when Withers, her parlourmaid, came out.
Noblemen, becoming less and less sure of themselves under the impact of successive Reform Bills, wished to be waited on by less and less numerous gatherings of footmen. And at length, in the course of the great War, any Nobleman not young enough to be away fighting was waited on by an old butler and a parlourmaid or two; and the ceiling did not fall.
Arlington, swallowing the remains of his glass in a single gulp, spoilt a dignified exit by violently hiccoughing, and Mrs. Arlington rang the bell furiously for the parlourmaid to clear away. The pudding passed untouched from before the very eyes of the twins. It was a black-currant pudding with brown sugar. That night Mrs.
Spargo gauged the character of the house at which he called as soon as the door was opened to him. There was the usual smell of eggs and bacon, of fish and chops; the usual mixed and ancient collection of overcoats, wraps, and sticks in the hall; the usual sort of parlourmaid to answer the bell.
A loud ringing of the bell prefaced the entrance of some visitor, whose voice was heard in eager conversation with a parlourmaid in the hall. "That's your neighbour Mr. Garthwaite," said Bent. Cotherstone set down the cigars and opened the dining-room door. A youngish, fresh-coloured man, who looked upset and startled, came out of the hall, glancing round him inquiringly. "Sorry to intrude, Mr.
I didn't see the person I risked seeing, but I had been ready to take my chance of her." She addressed herself to Maisie; she had encircled her more closely. "I asked for YOU, my dear, but I saw no one but a dirty parlourmaid.
As it was, two splendidly efficient persons, one German, the other English, had filled the posts of parlourmaid and cook for the last eight years, and regarded themselves, and were regarded, as members of the family.
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