"
Delia said: "Dah! I wonder what she wants now." By this time she was in
the kitchen, confronting Delia. Her face was flushed as she screamed
out: "What kind of biscuits were those you baked this week?" "I think
they were all right, Mis Sarh." "Hush!" screamed out the madam, stamping
her foot to make it more emphatic. "You did not half cook them," said
she; "they were not beat enough. Those waffles were ridiculous," said
the madam. "Well, Mis Sarh, I tried." "Stop!" cried Madam in a rage,
"I'll give you thunder if you dictate to me." Not a very elegant display
in language or manner for a great lady! Old Aunt Delia, who was used to
these occurrences, said: "My Lord! dat woman dunno what she wants. Ah!
Lou, there is nothing but the devil up here, (meaning the new home);
can't do nothin to please her up here in dis fine house. I tell you
Satan neber git his own til he git her." They did not use baking powder,
as we do now, but the biscuits were beaten until light enough. Twenty
minutes was the time allotted for this work; but when company came there
was so much to be done--so many more dishes to prepare, that Delia
would, perhaps, not have so much time for each meal. But there was no
allowance made. It was never thought reasonable that a servant should
make a mistake--things must always be the same. I was listening to this
quarrel between madam and Delia, supposing my time would come next; but
for that once she said nothing to me.
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