When her mistress complained about it, her master said that she oughtn’t to expect too much. The lass surely required a little rest now and again, after carrying such drayman’s loads as she did.
But Toad always had an ogle and a grin ready at such times as the general dealer came through the door from the shop. Then she grew quick and lively enough, and went on all sorts of errands, whether it was with the bucket to the spring or to the storehouse for bread. And when she saw that her mistress was out of the way, she took it upon herself to do exactly as she liked, both in this and in that.
No sooner was the pot hung on the pothook, than she would slip away with a big saucer and fetch syrup from the shop. And she would flounce down before the porridge dish and gobble to her heart’s content. If any of her fellow-servants claimed an equal share, she would simply answer, “It’s me!”
They dared not rebel. Since the day she had taken up the hogsheads of train-oil, they knew that she had master on her side.
But her mistress was not slow to mark the diminishing both of the syrup-pot and the powdered sugar, and she perceived also in which direction the gingerbreads and all the butter and bacon went. For out the wench would come, munching rye cakes and licking the syrup from her fingers.
And she grew as round and thick and fat as if she would burst.
When her mistress took away and kept the key, Toad would poke her head into the parlour door, and ogle and writhe at the general dealer, and ask if there was anything to carry up to the storeroom. And then he would go to the window and watch her as she lifted and carried kegs of fish and casks of sugar and sacks of meal.
He laughed till he coughed again, and, wiping the sweat from his forehead, would bellow all over the place—“Can any one of my labouring men carry loads like Toad can?”
And when her master came home, dripping wet and benumbed with cold, from his first autumn voyage, it was Toad who was first and foremost to meet him and unbutton his oilskin jacket for him, and undo his sou’wester, and help him off with his long sea-boots.
He shivered and shook; but she was not slow to wring out his wet stockings for him, and fetch no end of birch bark and huge logs. Then she made up a regular bonfire in the fireplace, and placed him cosily in the chimney corner.
Madame came to give her husband some warm ale posset; but she was so annoyed to see the wench whisking and bustling about him, that she went up into the parlour and howled with rage.
Early in the morning, the general dealer bawled and shouted downstairs for his long worsted stockings. They could hear that he was peevish and cross because he had to put on his sea-jacket and cramped water-boots, and go out again into the foul weather.
He tore open the kitchen door, and asked them furiously how much longer they were going to keep him waiting.
But now his mouth grew as wide open as the doorway he stood in, and his face quite lit up with satisfaction.
Round about the walls, and in the warmth of the chimney corner, hung his sou’wester, and his oilskin jacket, and his trousers, and every blessed bit of clothes he was to put on, as dry as tinder. And in the middle of the kitchen bench he saw his large sea-boots standing there, so snug, and so nicely greased, that the grease ran right down the shafts and over the straps.
Such a servant for looking after him and taking care of him he had not believed it possible to get for love or money, cried the general dealer.
But now his wife could contain herself no longer. She showed him that the clothes were both scorched and burned, and that the whole of one side of the oilskin jacket was crumpled up with heat, and cracked if one pulled it never so lightly.
And in she dragged the big butter-keg, that he might see for himself how the wench had stuck both his boots in it and used it to grease them with.
But the general dealer stood there quite dumbfounded, and glanced now at the boots and now at the butter-tub.
He snapped his fingers, and his face twitched, and then he began to wipe away his tears.
He hastened to go in that they might not see that he was weeping.
“Mother does not know how kindly the wench has meant it all,” he sobbed. Good heavens! what if she had used butter for his boots, if she had only meant well. Never would he turn such a lass out of the house.
Then the wife gave it up altogether, and let the big kitchen wench rule as best she might. And it was not very long either before Toad let the key of the storeroom remain in the door from morn till eve. When anyone bawled out to her, “Who’s inside there?” she would simply answer, “It’s me!”
And she didn’t budge from the gingerbread-box, as she sat there and ate, even for Madame herself. But she always had an eye upon her master the general dealer.
But he only jested with her, and asked her if she got food enough, and said that he was afraid he would, one day, find her starved to death.
Towards Christmas time, when folks were making ready to go a-fishing, Madame was busy betimes and bustled about as usual, and got the great cauldron taken down into the working-room for washing and wool-stamping.
The cooks hired for the occasion
