old times, the times of the simple life
now passed forever, when the daughter of one family 'lived out' in
another, she ate with the family and shared alike with them. She was
their help, but she became their hindrance when she insisted upon the
primitive custom after 'waiting at table' had passed the stage when the
dishes were all set down, and the commensals 'did their own stretching.'
Heroes and seraphs did their utmost to sweeten and soften the situation,
but the unkind tendency could not be stayed. The daughter of the
neighbor who 'lived out' became 'the hired girl,' and then she became
the waitress, especially when she was of neighbors beyond seas; and then
the game was up. Those who thought humanely of the predicament and
wished to live humanely in it tried one thing and tried another. That
great soul of H.D.L., one of the noblest and wisest of our economic
reformers, now gone to the account which any might envy him, had a usage
which he practised with all guests who came to his table. Before they
sat down he or his wife said, looking at the maid who was to serve the
dinner, 'This is our friend, Miss Murphy'; and then the guests were
obliged in some sort to join the host and hostess in recognizing the
human quality of the attendant. It was going rather far, but we never
heard that any harm came of it. Some thought it rather odd, but most
people thought it rather nice."

"And you advocate the general adoption of such a custom?" our friend
asked, getting back to the sarcasm of his opening note. "Suppose a
larger dinner, a fashionable dinner, with half a dozen men waiters?
That sort of thing might do at the table of a reformer, which only the
more advanced were invited to; but it wouldn't work with the average
retarded society woman or clubman."

"What good thing works with _them_?" we retorted, spiritedly. "But no,
the custom would not be readily adopted even among enlightened thinkers.
We do not insist upon it; the men and the maids might object; they might
not like knowing the kind of people who are sometimes asked to quite
good houses. To be sure, they are not obliged to recognize them out of
the house."

"But what," our friend asked, "has all this got to do with the question
of 'the decent respect' due from domestics, as you prefer to call them,
to their employers?"

"As in that case of the dairymaids which we began with? But why was any
show of respect due from them? Was it nominated in the bond that for