UNTRUTHFULNESS OF SERVANTS.
“MARY, if anybody calls, I am out.” These words were spoken recently in my hearing, says Helen S. Conant in the Ladies’ Home Journal—spoken, too, by sweet lips, lips that would have proudly scorned to tell a lie. And yet this was a lie direct. We were sitting in my friend’s cozy upstairs snuggery, and she had just expressed a hope that no one would come to interrupt the confidential chat we were enjoying so much. “We will not be interrupted,” she exclaimed. “Mary, if anybody calls, I am out.” “Yes, ma’am,” said Mary very demurely, as she left the room. “Was that right, my dear?” I said. “Do you expect Mary to be truthful to you when you teach her to lie for you?” Of course there was no denying the fact that wrong had been done—wrong to Mary, the maid, wrong to the friend who might call to be turned away with a lie, and wrong to the sweet, youthful lips which had spoken the thoughtless and untruthful words. Still my friend tried to justify herself. “Everybody does it. I am told constantly that people are out when I know they are at home,” she said. Now, the fact that everybody does a thing never made wrong right. In this case, however, everybody does not do it. A thoughtful, honorable woman has too much respect for herself, and too much respect for her servants, to stoop to such a falsehood. We do not always stop to think of the power of example, nor of how closely we are watched by those whose opportunities for pure moral development have been much less than our own. Truthfulness is a necessary quality in a servant. Misdeeds are forgiven and forgotten when they are frankly confessed. We are sorry for the broken dish when the maid comes to us with the pieces in her hand, but we rejoice in the feeling of confidence it gives us that we are receiving faithful if not always careful service; but it is different when we find the pieces hidden away at the back of a high shelf, or discover them by accident in the ash barrel. A mistress who will deliberately instruct her maid to tell a lie cannot expect to know the truth of what goes on in the kitchen, and if she does not, she is in a large measure to blame for it, for in telling falsehoods herself she loses the respect of her servants, and a mistress who is not respected will never be well served, neither can she exert a good influence upon those humble workers who, for the time being, are members of her household, as it is her duty to do. I have been a housekeeper for thirty years, and it is not theory but experience that leads me to say that many failings of the maids in the kitchen spring from the failings of the mistress. There are bad servants, as every housekeeper knows, with failings of their own, often inherited from or developed by former mistresses, but so deeply rooted that the most judicious treatment fails to overcome them. On the other hand, there are many young girls fresh from the old country who have good inclinations, and who can easily be made truthful, and honest, and upright, if the mistress will set the example by always holding herself quiet, and kind, and firm, and truthful, as a true lady should. We are too careless before our servants. We allow them to see our weaknesses, our little ebullitions of temper, our petty subterfuges. There is one household which I have watched many years where trouble with servants is unknown. I cannot believe that good girls always come to that particular mistress. That she is judicious in choosing those who shall enter her household I do not doubt, but that alone is not enough to secure the domestic peace which always reigns within her doors. Her servants remain with her for years, and they serve her well and faithfully because she secures their respect and their affection. The discipline of that household is perfect. A firm, sweet woman’s hand touches every detail, and a kind and true woman’s heart smooths the rough places and settles all the little differences. There is no need to say that this mistress never teaches her maid to tell an untruth. If she is obliged to refuse herself to a friend, she sends a message which is true, accompanied by some sweet word of regret, which is sure to be pleasantly received. Every lady has a right to refuse herself to friends when sickness, weariness, or some domestic duty makes it difficult, impossible, perhaps, to be at the time a gracious and courteous hostess. The message of refusal, however, can be so worded that no person of any common sense or judgment could feel offended. “Mrs Brown is engaged,” is abrupt and not to be recommended, although it may be the truth, but there are many ways of making it more gracious. “Mrs. Brown cannot receive to-day,” is simple, truthful, and should offend no one, as, if the maid delivers the message at the door to each and all alike, it is evident that no slight is intended. Many ladies now have one day in the week when they are “at home.” This arrangement becomes necessary in large cities where one’s circle of acquaintances is extensive and calling is a matter of ceremony. But the fact that a lady sets apart one day to receive friends is no excuse for instructing the maid to tell an untruth to those who, for some reason, call on another day, but it is a reason why those who call out of season have no right to be offended when they are told that “Mrs. Brown is not receiving.”—Selected.