Pointed Roofs. Pilgrimage

Author: Dorothy Miller Richardson

Chapter VII

"Don’t let her it, Miss Henderson."

Fraulein Pfaff’s words broke the silence accompanying the servant’s progress from Gertrude whose soup-plate she had first seized, to Miriam more than half-way down the table.

Startled into observation Miriam saw the soup-spoon of her neighbour whisked, dripping, from its plate to the uppermost of Marie’s pile and Emma shrinking back with a horrified face against Jimmie who was leaning forward entranced with watching. . . . The whole table was watching. Marie, having secured Emma’s plate to the base of her pile clutched Miriam’s spoon. Miriam moved sideways as the spoon swept up, saw the desperate hard, lean face bend towards her for a moment as her plate was seized, heard an exclamation of annoyance from Fraulein and little sounds from all round the table. Marie had passed on to Clara. Clara received her with plate and spoon held firmly together and motioned her before she would relinquish them, to place her load upon the shelf of the lift.

Miriam felt she was in disgrace with the whole table. . . . She sat, flaring, rapidly framing phrase after phrase for the lips of her judges . . . "slow and awkward" . . . "never has her wits about her". . . .

"Don’t let her do it, Miss Henderson. . . ." Why should Fraulein fix upon to teach her common servants? Struggling through her resentment was pride in the fact that she did not know how to handle soup-plates. Presently she sat refusing absolutely to accept the judgment silently assailing her on all hands.

"You are not very domesticated, Miss Henderson."

"No," responded Miriam quietly, in joy and fear.

Fraulein gave a short laugh.

Goaded, Miriam plunged forward.

"We were never even allowed in the kitchen at home."

"I see. You and your sisters were brought up like Countesses, wie Grafinnen," observed Fraulein Pfaff drily.

Miriam’s whole body was on fire . . . "and your sisters and your sisters," echoed through and through her. Holding back her tears she looked full at Fraulein and met the brown eyes. She met them until they turned away and Fraulein broke into smiling generalities. Conversation was released all round the table. Emphatic undertones reached her from the English side. "Fool" . . . "simply idiotic."

"I’ve done it now," mused Miriam calmly, on the declining tide of her wrath.

Pretending to be occupied with those about her she sat examining the look Fraulein had given her . . . she hates me. . . . Perhaps she did from the first. . . . She did from the first. . . . I shall have to go . . . and suddenly, lately, she has grown worse. . . .


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Chicago: Dorothy Miller Richardson, "Chapter VII," Pointed Roofs. Pilgrimage, ed. Macaulay, G. C. (George Campbell), 1852-1915 and trans. Evans, Sebastian in Pointed Roofs. Pilgrimage Original Sources, accessed March 20, 2019, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CK3K24VQKAHFCIE.

MLA: Richardson, Dorothy Miller. "Chapter VII." Pointed Roofs. Pilgrimage, edited by Macaulay, G. C. (George Campbell), 1852-1915, and translated by Evans, Sebastian, in Pointed Roofs. Pilgrimage, Original Sources. 20 Mar. 2019. www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CK3K24VQKAHFCIE.

Harvard: Richardson, DM, 'Chapter VII' in Pointed Roofs. Pilgrimage, ed. and trans. . cited in , Pointed Roofs. Pilgrimage. Original Sources, retrieved 20 March 2019, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=CK3K24VQKAHFCIE.