Journal of Katherine Mansfield
Mrs. Honey explains. She has been crying. Madame spoke to her “awful crool” about a cracked tumbler. Lied. Bullied. And the poor old creature, who has had 15 rooms to do lately and three flights of stairs to scrub (age 68) “couldn't help but cry….”
I wish Madame would develop a tumour during the night, have it cut out to-morrow and be “dead, buried and a',” before the Sunday dinner. She is exactly like a large cow in a black silk dress—and she will never, never, Never die.
“If the fire turns bright, your mããn is in a good temper.” (Mrs. Honey.)