Australian Tales - Setis

“To-night, I hope and trust,” said Mrs. Lemonpip, in a very desponding
tone, while she wiped out the frying-pan and put it over the fire; then
wiped the perspiration from her soot-begrimed face, and sighed like a
strong breeze. “She is to come to-night, and I wish I had made her
promise to come this morning, if only to save me from that plaguey
door.”
Rat-tat-tat-tat, went the knocker just then, which made little Mrs.
Lemonpip jump up five inches at least, and at the same moment drop a
pork sausage off the fork among the cinders. “There's that goblin of a
knocker again,” she muttered with closely set teeth. “It has nearly hunted
me to death this morning; rap, tap, tap, like an undertaker's hammer. I
shall do mischief if I go to the door; I am sure I shall. I could skewer a
knocker maker this very minute,” she added, while she made a violent
probe at some imaginary enemy with the carving fork.
“Hush! calm yourself, my pop,” said Mr. Lemonpip, “Go on frying the
sausages, and I'll open the door. Folks must use the knocker you know,
dear, else how should we know that they are at the door? Do you want a
little round table, Betsy?” shouted that complaisant old gentleman, after
he had opened the door.
“Round table, no! What on earth will they hawk about the streets next?
They ought to be punished.”
“Or a step ladder, my dear?” asked Mr. Lemonpip, with something like
a comical curl at the left corner of his mouth.
“No!” vociferated Mrs. Lemonpip, “what the plague do you think I
want with a step ladder? slam the door in that fellow's impudent face; he
was here the day before yesterday with his nuisances. I'll ladder him, if I
catch him here again. These hawkers are ten times worse pests than the
rats and cockroaches in the kitchen.”
Mr. Lemonpip dismissed the ladder merchant, rather more gently than
his wrathy little wife had recommended — and returned to the kitchen,
with a happy smile on his face, and the desire in his heart to make
himself agreeable and useful to the utmost of his ability.
“Now, Betty, my love! only tell me how I can lighten your load, and it
will do me good,” said Mr. Lemonpip, “I'm your humble and most
obedient servant, for any little light job; such as cleaning the knives and
forks, filling the coal scuttle, trimming the moderator, or anything else
within the compass of moderate powers. What can I do for you, my
blackbird? just tell me and I'll jump to do it, as nimbly as a Jack tar in a
squall.”
“Just get out of the kitchen and don't worrit me — that's all I ask you to
do,” snapped Mrs. Lemonpip; “I wonder what in the world has brought
you home an hour before your usual time. I hope you have not been
turned away from Tubbs and Co.'s, I shouldn't wonder if you have
though, for they have treated you lately as if you were of no more