What experienced country boarder has not laughed in
his sleeve to see such an one, newly arrived, putting his head out
snappingly, like a turtle, from his doorway, and calling to chance
passers, "How d'ye get at anybody in this house?"
If it is a woman, she expects that the tea will be of the finest flavor,
and never boiled; that steaks will be porter-house steaks; that green peas
will be in plenty; and that the American girl, who is chambermaid for the
summer, and school-teacher in the winter, and who, ten to one, could put
her to the blush in five minutes by superior knowledge on many subjects,
will enter and leave her room and wait upon her at the table with the
silent respectfulness of a trained city servant.
This is all very silly. But it happens. At the end of every summer
hundreds of disappointed city people go back to their homes grumbling
about country food and country ways. Hundreds of tired and discouraged
wives of country landlords sit down in their houses, at last emptied, and
vow a vow that never again will they take "city folks to board.
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