“Add the postcards to the books,” I said, trying to be equally amiable, “and Abigail will gladly run the jumble corner; she will be smarter at it than you or I.”
Abigail appeared as soon as her ladyship had gone. The farmeress who supplied us with milk was waiting in the kitchen to know if I wanted extra milk morning and evening in future, on account of company; as, if so, she would save it specially. She was experiencing a shortage of milk, “Hussy” having run dry, and “Clover,” for some unknown reason that I hadn’t time to listen to, not doing her lactic duty as befitted her station in life.
Emphatically I said that I should not want any extra milk—and a few other things.
Ten minutes later there was yet another interruption. This time it was the owner of the Buff Orpingtons, who had arrived at the back door to inquire if I was wanting any eggs—she’d brought eight with her, and expected another one to-night, which she’d send up—her hens had just started laying again, etc.
I fairly blessed the individual who had first set going the fable that I was expecting visitors.
I told Abigail that it was a matter of perfect indifference to me whether all the fowls in the district did, or did not, accommodatingly lay nine, or even ten, eggs for my especial benefit; but what did matter to me was whether I could, or could not, get nine or even ten minutes of uninterrupted peace, in order to finish my letters before the postman arrived. (He always calls obligingly at five o’clock for my afternoon mail.) And I requested that she would kindly take in any and everything that came during the next hour (so long as it didn’t need paying for!); only, for pity’s sake, would she cease opening that door and seeking advice on the subject.
After that I was left severely alone. From time to time I heard voices in the rear; there was one very loud series of bumps and bangs—I concluded it was the missionary report being introduced to the table. But I worked on, and had just sealed up my last budget of proofs, and addressed it to the printers, when the postman appeared. I heaved a sigh at the amount of stuff he carried away. The shower had passed over without even damping the blossoms. I would have some tea, and then start watering.