Edith the General

Resonantly in his wig and gown Counsellor J. P. Eddy stood up in London's High Court last week and intoned: "Thou shalt not covet ... his manservant nor his maidservant nor his ox, nor his ass, nor anything that is his."

Mr. Justice Talbot popped his head over the bench to interpose:

"Shouldn't that quotation be 'Nor his servant, nor his maid?' Ah, but of course, I am thinking of the Prayer Book and not the Authorized Version. Proceed!"

So commenced the trial of a case which half the housewives of Britain had followed with burning interest through columns and columns of newspaper space.

In the little Berkshire village of Cookham Dean was a comfortable little house called The Twigs, which belonged to a Mrs. Skrine. Mrs. Skrine also had a Cook-General, a button-nosed treasure of an orphan girl named Edith Saville who was excellent at making jam and bottling fruits. Mrs. Skrine moved away from Cookham Dean, and lent Edith the General to Mr. & Mrs. Alexander Frederick Churchill Sim who lived 100 yards down the road in a house called Old Barton. Later Mrs. Skrine sold The Twigs to a Mr. & Mrs. Stretch, who promptly renamed it Applewood. Under any name Edith the General wanted to go back to her old kitchen. So she agreed to leave the Sims and work for the Stretches for -L-52 a year.

Black jealousy entered the heart of Mr. & Mrs. Sim. By secret messages, carried from Old Barton to The Twigs (now Applewood) by the gardener, they endeavored to entice Edith the General back.

Last year, the plotting Sims thought they saw their chance. Edith's pet cat died, and circumstantial evidence pointed to Herbert Mercer Stretch of The Twigs (now Applewood), as the killer. On April 12, 1934 Mr. & Mrs. Sim waited in their car until they saw Mr. & Mrs. Stretch depart for a day's shopping in Maidenhead. Then Mr. Sim crept up.

"Come, Edith," he called. "Hurry up, I want you to come and talk to my solicitor about that cat of yours."

Without money, without luggage, still in her cap & apron, Edith the General was whisked in the car to Mrs. Sim's father-in-law's house at Maidenhead.

"I say, we've won, we've got her!" cried Mrs. Sim. "Edith, consider yourself kidnapped!"

"Fancy that now!" said Edith the General.

Kidnapping was bad enough, but in his pride Mr. Sim of Old Barton sent to Mr. Stretch of The Twigs (now Applewood) a taunting telegram accusing him of financial instability. The telegram passed through the village store where it was read by most of the gossips in Cookham Dean. Against Mr. Sim, Mr. Stretch promptly brought two suits, one for "enticement," the other for personal libel. Then for a year the case hung fire and bewildered Edith the General continued to work for the Sims.

In his charge to the trial jury last week Mr. Justice Talbot declared:

"This case has been called a trumpery one, but on the other hand ... it is a very vexatious thing to have a servant suddenly whisked off in the middle of her morning's work. ... In regard to the libel you may consider this the more serious matter of the two. You all know what village post offices are."

The Sims were found guilty, fined -L-25 for enticement, -L-250 for libel and nearly -L-400 for costs. Back in Old Barton, Cookham Dean, newshawks found Edith the General putting the kettle on for tea.

"Now that it's over, I don't think I'll work for either one of them again," said she. "It has been a terrible ordeal. Since October I have been like a pot boiling over. I think I shall take a week's holiday before I look for another job."

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