By Clarence Day

One late afternoon when Father came up from down town, he found his home much upset.

Our cook had walked out and left us. I was a child of four, George was two, and there was a new baby besides. Mother was ill. She hadn't been able to leave us to go to an agency. And as she was no hand at cooking herself, the outlook for dinner was poor.

This state of affairs was unprecedented（前所未有的）in all Father's experience. In his father's home, they never changed their servants suddenly; they seldom changed them at all; and as his mother was a past mistress（女能人）of cooking, he had always been doubly protected. Since his marriage, he had had to live a much bumpier（更坎坷的）life. But this was the worst yet.

He asked Mother, who was lying in bed, what she was going to do about it. There were no telephones then, and she couldn't do anything at all, at the moment; but she said she would try to go to an agency in the morning and see what she could f ind. “In the morning? Good God!” Father said. “Where is the place, anyhow?” And he clapped on his hat and strode out again, over toward Sixth Avenue.

As I heard the story years afterward, it was late when he got there, and he bounded up（跳上）the front stoop（门廊，门阶）two or three steps at a time, and went quickly into the little off ice, where the gaslights were burning. He had never been in such a place before, and to his surprise it was empty, except for a severe-looking woman who sat at a desk at one side. “Where do you keep 'em?” he urgently demanded, his mind on the question of dinner.

She looked at him, got out her pen, and opened a large book deliberately. “I will take your name and address,” she informed him, “and then, if you please, you may give me the details as to what kind of person you require and when you would wish her to call.”

But Father had no time, he told her, for any damned fol-de-rol（废话）. “Where do you keep 'em?” he said again. She was standing in the way of his dinner. I can imagine how his face must have reddened and how his eyes must have blazed at（怒视）her. “I am asking you where you keep them!” he roared.

“Why, the girls are in there,” the lady explained, to calm him, “but clients are not allowed in that room. If you will tell me the kind of position you wish me to f ill for you, I will have one come out.”

Before she'd half-f inished, Father had thrown open the door and gone in. There sat a crowd of the girls, young and old, sickly and brawny（强壮的）, of all shapes and sizes; some ugly, some pretty and trim（整洁的）and stylish（时髦的）, some awkward; nurses, ladies' maids, waitresses, washerwomen, and cooks.

The manager was by now at Father's elbow（在父亲旁边）, trying to make him get out, and insisting that he tell her the position he wished her to f ill. But Father was swiftly glancing around at the crowd, and he paid no attention. He noticed a little woman in the corner, with honest grey eyes, who sat there, shrewd-looking（看起来很精明的）and quiet. He pointed his cane over at her and said, “I'll take that one.”

The manager was f lustered（慌张不安的）, but still she kept trying to enforce her authority. She protested she didn't yet know the position…

“Cook,” Father said, “cook.”

“But Margaret doesn't wish to be a cook, she wants—”

“You can cook, can't you?” Father demanded.

Margaret's plain little face was still pink with excitement and pleasure at being chosen above all that roomful by such a masterful（专横傲慢的）gentleman. Father had probably smiled at her, too, for they liked each other at once. Well, she said, she had cooked for one family.

“Of course she can cook,” Father said.

He said afterward, when describing the incident, “I knew at once she could cook.”

The manager didn't like this at all. The discipline of the off ice was spoiled. “If you are going to take her anyhow,” she said acidly（尖刻地）, “what day would you wish her to come, and will you please give me your name?”

“Yes, yes,” Father said, without giving it. “Come on, Margaret.” And he planked down（立即付款）the fee and walked out.

Margaret followed him through the door and trotted over to our home at his heels. He sent her down to the kitchen immediately, while he went upstairs to dress.

“I don't know why you make such a fuss（大惊小怪，小题大做）about engaging new servants. It's simple enough,” he said comfortably to Mother that evening, after Margaret's f irst dinner.

It was the f irst of a long series, for she stayed with us twenty-six years.

In the summers, when we went to the country, our usual plan was to hire a temporary cook to go with us, so that Margaret could stay in town. We hated to leave her, but the idea was that somebody must stay to take care of the house. There were no electric burglar alarms（防盗报警器）in those days, and few special watchmen. Little Margaret made a pretty small watchman, for she was no size at all, but she had an indomitable（不屈不挠的）spirit. So we'd leave her on guard while we went up to our summer home in Harrison with a substitute cook.

But this didn't work well. No matter how few the substitute' faults were, Father had no patience with them. One summer, I remember, there was a nice woman, Delia, who got on well with Mother because she was so obliging（礼貌体贴的）and pleasant, but who didn't suit Father at all. “I don't give a damn how obliging she is,” he kept saying. “If she won't oblige me by cooking something f it to eat, she can go.”

This didn't sound unreasonable, but Delia cooked well enough for the rest of us, and Mother hated to risk getting someone else who'd be temperamental（喜怒无常的）. Our dining-room consequently became a battleground morning and night. At breakfast, Father would put down his coffee-cup in disgust and roar: “Slops（泔水）! Damn it, slops! Does she call this confounded（讨厌的）mess coffee? Isn't there a damned soul in Westchester County who knows how to make coffee but me? I swear to God I can't even imagine how she concocts（调制）such atrocities（可憎的东西）. I come down to this room hungry every morning, and she tries to f ill me with slops! Take it away, I tell you!” he would bellow（大吼）to the waitress. “Take this accursed（可憎的）mess away!” And while she and Delia were frantically hurrying to make a fresh pot, he would savagely devour（吞食）his omelet and bacon, and declare that his breakfast was ruined.

The longer Delia stayed with us, the more alarmed Father became. He ate heartily（津津有味地）, as Mother kept pointing out to him, but he said he didn't feel nourished. He said it was no use to argue about it; he felt all gone inside. One night after he had had a four-course dinner, he fretfully got up from the table, went into the library with his cigar, and moaned that he was starved. His moans were, as always, full-throated（声音洪亮的）, and they came from the heart. Every now and then, when his miserable condition seemed to strike him afresh, he laid down his book and shouted “Starved! Starved!” in a grief-stricken（极度悲伤的）roar.

When Mother went in the library to quiet him, he told her he'd be damned if he'd stand it. “I refuse to be sent to my grave, do you hear me, by that infernal bogtrotting imbecile（可恶的在泥潭里小跑的蠢货）you keep in my kitchen.”

”Now, Clare, a Japanese is coming tomorrow, I told you. This is Delia's last night. I do hope you'll like Tobo. He won't know our ways right at the start, of course, but he is a very good cook.”

Father was appeased（安抚）for the moment by the dismissal（解雇）of Delia. But the next night, when he found that the f irst dish was too Oriental（东方的）, he said in an annoyed tone to Mother, “Will you kindly explain to your man Tobo that I am not a coolie（苦力）?” And after eating the rest of his dinner, he pushed his plate away and went up to his bedroom, declaring vehemently（激烈地）that he was poisoned. He undressed, lay down on his sofa, and f illed the air with deep groans.

小说《与父亲一起生活的日子》

From time to time he stopped and dozed a little, or listened to what he could hear of our talk. His feeling was that we shouldn't be talking at all. We ought to be sitting with bowed heads in silence until he recovered. “Poisoned!” he suddenly boomed, to remind us. “Oh, God! I am poisoned!”

At this point, Mother, who was down in the library, laughed. Father heard her. He jumped up from his sofa and marched from his bedroom indignantly（愤怒地）into the hall. “I'm a sick man!” he thundered robustly（强有力地）. “And nobody in this house gives a damn!”

Mother hurried upstairs to see what he wanted. He insisted on her rubbing his back. Sick or well, that always soothed him, and he would have liked her to do it for hours. He loved to close his eyes, with someone's hand moving quietly on him, while a feeling of comfort f lowed into his thoughts and his nerves.

Mother didn't think much of rubbing, however. She didn't like it herself. When anyone rubbed her, she stiffened and resisted at once. Consequently she had no idea of the right way to do it. When she had to rub Father, she always got tired of it in a very few minutes.

She gave him some hasty little rubs and digs as well as she could, but just as he was beginning to relax, she said, “There now, Clare, that's enough.” Father was so disappointed by this that it reminded him that he was poisoned, and the only cure he could think of was the dismissal of Tobo.

The next day old Margaret was sent for to come at once to the country, and the house in town was locked up and left to take care of itself.

She came in a hack（出租马车）from the Harrison station. She was an odd sight. Her face looked familiar in her little black bonnet（包头软帽）, tied under her chin, but she seemed strangely swollen（浮肿的）and bulky（庞大的）; she stuck out in queer places; and as she crowded through the back door, she bruised（擦伤）me with her hard, bony hip. Only it wasn't her hip, it turned out; it was her favourite saucepan（深平底锅）, which was tied to her waist under her skirt. Several large spoons, a dipper（长柄勺）, a skillet（长柄平底煎锅）, and two pair of shoes were made fast under it elsewhere. In her arms she had some bundles wrapped in newspapers, which Mother thought at f irst held her clothes, but when Margaret opened them we found they contained cheeses, melons, fresh coffee, a leg of lamb, some sweet potatoes, and other provisions（食物）. Margaret had no faith at all in being able to buy any supplies in the country. She had brought as complete a larder（食物柜）to Harrison as though we were at the North Pole.

”But didn't you bring any clothes with you, Margaret? Not even an apron?” asked Mother.

Little Margaret pursed her lips closely together and didn't answer at f irst. Then, as Mother stood waiting, she said unwillingly, “I have me other clothes on me.”

She had wanted to have her hands free, it seemed, to bring us something good to eat. So under her street dress she was wearing two other dresses on that hot summer day, a collection of stiff ly starched（上过浆的）petticoats（衬裙）, three aprons, two nightgowns, and pretty much all the rest of her wardrobe.

As she was climbing upstairs to unpeel and unpack herself（把身上的衣服一层一层脱掉，把捆在身上的物品一件一件取下来）, Father saw her. “Is that you, Margaret?” he called, suddenly feeling much better. “Thank God!”