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Updated: May 23, 2025
Sergeant Cuff looked attentively at our second housemaid at her face, when she came in; at her crooked shoulder, when she went out. "Have you anything more to say to me?" asked my lady, still as eager as ever to be out of the Sergeant's society. The great Cuff opened the washing-book, understood it perfectly in half a minute, and shut it up again.
He laid the washing-book on the table, and taking out his penknife, began to trim his nails. "You don't seem to be much disappointed," I said. "No," said Sergeant Cuff; "I am not much disappointed." I tried to make him explain himself. "Why should Miss Rachel put an obstacle in your way?" I inquired. "Isn't it her interest to help you?" "Wait a little, Mr. Betteredge wait a little."
She remained with us until it was produced, in case Sergeant Cuff had any further request to make of her after looking at it. The washing-book was brought in by Rosanna Spearman. The girl had come down to breakfast that morning miserably pale and haggard, but sufficiently recovered from her illness of the previous day to do her usual work.
At home I am only Valentine Hawkehurst, with an ever-present consciousness that so many pages of copy are required from me within a given time, and that my son-and-heir is cutting his teeth, and making more fuss about it than I ever made about my teeth; and that the man about the water-rate is waiting to see me, please, and is desperately anxious about making-up his books; and that I have the dearest wife in Christendom, who opens my door, and puts her pretty head into my room once in half an hour to see how I am getting on, or to ask whether I want any more coals, or to borrow my ink to make-up her washing-book."
Ah! poor Beethoven! now is it forcibly brought home to me what his discomforts were with his washing-book and engaging of housekeepers, etc., etc. I who have praised woman more than Frauenlob, have not one for my companion. The truth is, I have spoiled Minna; too much did I indulge her, too much did I yield to her; but it were better not to talk upon a subject which never ceases to vex me."
As the shades of Christmas Eve began to fall, Aunt Annie was seated by the sick-bed, engaged in making entries in the household washing-book with a lead pencil. Henry lay with his eyes closed. Mrs. Knight was out shopping. Presently there was a gentle ting of the front-door bell; then a protracted silence; then another gentle ting. 'Bless the girl!
"The next news that reached us in the servants' hall showed that I had not made sure of the nightgown a moment too soon. Sergeant Cuff wanted to see the washing-book. "I found it, and took it to him in my lady's sitting-room. The Sergeant and I had come across each other more than once in former days.
The marvellous man had covered nine pages of the washing-book. Within twenty-four hours, not only Henry, but his mother and aunt, had become entirely absorbed in Henry's tale. The ladies wondered how he thought of it all, and Henry himself wondered a little, too. It seemed to 'come, without trouble and almost without invitation. It cost no effort.
"What I have to say next," answered Sergeant Cuff, "relates to Rosanna Spearman. I recognised the young woman, as your ladyship may remember, when she brought the washing-book into this room. Up to that time I was inclined to doubt whether Miss Verinder had trusted her secret to any one. When I saw Rosanna, I altered my mind.
Fortified by two halves of a mince-tart and several slices of Sir George's turkey, he filled the washing-book full up before dusk on Christmas Day; and on Boxing Day, despite the faint admiring protests of his nurses, he made a considerable hole in a quire of the best ruled essay-paper.
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