Читать книгу Sparrows - Horace W. C. Newte - Страница 8

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There followed for Mavis many, many anxious days, spent from the first thing in the morning till late at night in a fruitless search for work. Her experiences were much the same as those of any attractive, friendless girl seeking to earn her livelihood in London. To begin with, she found that the summer was a time of year in which the openings she sought were all obstinately closed, the heads of firms, or those responsible for engaging additional assistance, being either away on holidays, or back from these in no mood to consider Mavis' application.

Another thing that struck her was that, whenever she went to interview men, she was always treated civilly, cordially, or familiarly; but the womenfolk she saw were invariably rude, directly they set eyes upon her comeliness. Once or twice, she was offered employment by men; it was only their free and easy behaviour which prevented her accepting it. Mavis, as yet, was ignorant of the conditions on which some employers of female labour engage girls seeking work; but she had a sensible head screwed on her pretty shoulders; she argued that if a man were inclined to be familiar after three minutes' acquaintance, what would he be when she was dependent upon him for a weekly wage? It was not compatible with her vast self-respect to lay herself open to risk of insult, suggested by a scarcely veiled admiration for her person after a few moments' acquaintance. It was not as if she had any qualification of marketable value; she knew neither shorthand nor typewriting; she could merely write a decent hand, was on very fair terms with French, on nodding acquaintance with German, and had a sound knowledge of arithmetic.

On the face of it, her best course was to get a situation as governess; but Mavis, after a week's trial, gave up the endeavour. The mothers of possible pupils, with whom the girl's credentials from the college secured an interview, were scarcely civil to the handsome, distinguished-looking girl; they were sure that such looks, seeking for employment, boded ill for anyone indulgent enough to engage her. Mavis could not understand such behaviour; she had read in books how people were invariably kind and sympathetic, women particularly so, to girls in want of work; surely she furnished opportunity for her own sex to show consideration to one of the less fortunate of their kind.

Mavis next advertised in local papers for pupils to whom she would teach music. Receiving no replies, she attempted to get employment in a house of business; this effort resulted in her obtaining work as a canvasser, remuneration being made by results. This meant tramping the pavement in all weathers, going up and coming down countless flights of stairs, swallowing all kinds of humiliating rebuffs in the effort to sell some encyclopedia or somebody's set of novels, which no one wanted. She always met with disappointment and, in time, became used to it; but there were occasions when a purchaser seemed likely, when hope would beat high, only to give place to sickening despair when her offer was finally rejected. On the whole, she met with civility and consideration from the young men (mostly clerks in offices) whom she interviewed; but there was a type of person whose loud-voiced brutality cut her to the quick. This was the West-end tradesman. She would walk into a shop in Bond Street or thereabouts, when the proprietor, taking her for a customer, would advance with cringing mien, wringing his hands the while. No sooner did he learn that the girl wanted him to buy something, than his manner immediately changed. Usually, in coarse and brutal voice, he would order her from the shop; sometimes, if he were in a facetious mood, and if he had the time to spare, he would make fun of her and mock her before a crowd of grinning underlings. To this day, the sight of a West-end tradesman fills Mavis with unspeakable loathing; nothing would ever mitigate the horror which their treatment of her inspired at this period of her life.

Then Mavis, in reply to one of her many answers to advertisements, received a letter asking her to call at an office in Eastcheap, at a certain time. Arrived there, she learned how she could earn a pound a week by canvassing, together with commission, if her sales were successful. She had eagerly accepted the offer, when she learned that she was to make house-to-house calls in certain London suburbs (she was to commence at Peckham), armed with a bottle of pickles and a bottle of sauce. She was furnished with a Peckham local directory and was instructed to make calls at every house in her district, when she was to ask for the mistress by name, in order to disarm suspicion on the part of whoever might open the door. When she was asked inside, she was to do her utmost to get orders for the pickles and the sauce, supplies of which were sent beforehand to a grocer in the neighbourhood. Mavis did not relish the job, but was driven by the goad of necessity. On her way home to tell Mrs. Ellis that she would be leaving immediately to live in Peckham, she slipped on a piece of banana skin and twisted her ankle, an accident which kept her indoors for the best part of a week. When she had written to Eastcheap to say that she was well enough to commence work, she had received a letter which informed her that her place had been filled.

Now, she was sitting in her little bedroom in Kiva Street, a prey to despair; she had no one to comfort her, not even Mrs. Ellis, this person having gone out on a rare visit to an aunt.

Her little stock of money had sadly dwindled; eighteen shillings and her trinkets stood between her and want. She had fought and had been vanquished; there was nothing left for her to do but to write to Mrs Devitt and ask if the offer, that had been mentioned in her last letter to Miss Mee, still held good. During all these weeks of weary effort, Mavis had been largely kept up by the thought that she was a sparrow, who could not fall to the ground without the knowledge of the Most High. Now, it seemed to her that she could sustain her flight but a little while longer; yet, so far as she could see, there was no one to whom her extremity seemed to matter in the least.

Apart from her desire to earn a living, the girl had struggled resolutely in order that she should not seek work of the Devitts. She disliked the family; she had resolved to apply to them only as a last resource.

She had gone one day to Brandenburg College to call on her old employers, but she found that the name-plate had been removed, and that the house was to let. She had made inquiries, to learn that her old friend Miss Annie Mee had died suddenly at Worthing, and also that Miss Helen had sold the school for what it would fetch, and no one knew what had become of her. Mavis grieved at the loss of her friend, but not so deeply, or for so long, as she would if she had not been consumed with anxiety on her own account. She had not forgotten Mr Goss's offer of help: she had called at his house twice, to learn on each occasion that he was out of town. Presently, Mrs Ellis came in; finding Mavis moping, she asked her to the downstairs sitting-room for a cup of tea. The girl gladly went: she sat by the window watching the men working in the yard behind, while Mrs Ellis made tea in the kitchen. Mavis, wanting air, opened the window, although she remembered her landlady's liking for having this particular one shut. No sooner had she done so, than she heard a woman's voice raised in raucous anger, the while it made use of much bad language. It abused certain people for not having done their work. The bad language getting more forceful than before, Mavis moved from the window. Presently, the voice stopped. Soon after, Mrs Ellis, looking red and flustered, came into the room. When she saw that Mavis had opened the window, she became redder in the face, as she said:

"I'm sorry, miss; I couldn't help it."

"Help what?" asked Mavis.

"Talking to the men as I did. I always wanted the window down, so you shouldn't hear."

"It was you, then?"

"Didn't you know, miss?"

"Not altogether. It was something like your voice."

"If I were to talk to them ordinary, they wouldn't listen; so I've to talk to them in my 'usband's language, which is all they understand," said Mrs Ellis apologetically.

The contrast between Mrs Ellis's neat, unassuming respectability and her language to the men made Mavis smile.

"I'm glad you've taken it sensible," remarked her landlady. "Many's the good lodger I've lost through that there window being open."

Tea put fresh heart into Mavis. It was ten days since she had last called on Mr Goss: she resolved to make a further attempt. He was in, she learned from the maid-of-all-work, who opened the door of Mr Goss's house.

On asking to see him, she was shown into a double drawing-room, the front part of which was tolerably furnished; but Mavis could not help noticing that the back was quite shabby; unframed coloured prints, taken from Christmas numbers of periodicals, were fastened to the walls with tin tacks.

Mr Goss came into the room wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. Mavis feared that she had interrupted a meal. Whether she had or not, he was glad to see her and asked if he could help her. Mavis told him how she was situated. In reply, he said that he had a friend who was a man of some importance in a West-end emporium. He asked her if she would like a letter of introduction to this person. Mavis jumped at the offer. When he had written the letter, Mavis asked after his daughter, to learn that she was staying at Margate with her mother. When Mavis thanked and said good-bye to Mr Goss, he warmly pressed the hand that she offered.

The next day, she presented herself at the great house of business where Mr Goss's friend was to be found. His name was Evans. It was only after delay that she was able to see him. He was a grave, kindly-looking man, who scanned Mavis with interest before he read Mr Goss's letter. Mavis could almost hear the beating of her heart while she waited to see if he could offer her anything.

"I'm sorry," he said, as he folded up the letter.

Mavis could not trust herself to speak.

"Very sorry I can't oblige you or Mr Goss," continued the man. "All our vacancies were filled last week. I've nothing at present."

Mavis turned to go.

"You want something to do at once?" said Mr Evans, as he noticed the girl's dismay.

Mavis nodded. The man went on:

"They'd probably take you at Dawes'."

"Dawes'!" echoed Mavis hopefully.

"Do you know anything of Dawes'?"

"Everyone knows Dawes'," smiled Mavis.

"But do you know anything of the place, as it affects girls who live there?"

"No," answered Mavis, who scarcely heeded what Mr Evans was saying; all her thoughts were filled by a great joy at a prospect of getting work.

She was conscious of the man saying something about her consulting Mrs Goss before thinking of going there; but she did not give this aspect of the matter another moment's thought.

"What name shall I ask for?" asked Mavis.

"Mr Orgles, if you go."

"Thank you so much. May I mention your name?"

"If you decide to go there, certainly."

Mavis thanked him and was gone. She, at once, made for Dawes'. The girl knew exactly where it was, its name and situation being a household word to women living in London. Arrived there, she glanced appealingly at the splendid plate-glass windows, as if beseeching them to mitigate some of their aloofness. She approached one of the glass doors, which was opened by a gorgeously attired official. When inside, she looked about her curiously, fearfully. She was in a long room, down either side of which ran a counter, behind which were stationed young women, who bore themselves with a self-conscious, would-be queenly mien. The space between the counters, to which the public was admitted, was promenaded by frock-coated men, who piloted inexperienced customers to where they might satisfy their respective wants. One of these shop-walkers approached Mavis.

"Where can I direct you, madam?"

"I want to see Mr Orgles."

The man looked at her attentively.

"I've come from Mr Evans at Poole and Palfrey's," murmured Mavis.

The man left her and spoke to one of the regal young women, who stood behind the counter as if trying to make believe that they were there, not from necessity, but from choice.

The man returned to Mavis and told her to wait. As she stood in the shop, she saw the young woman whom the man had spoken to mouth something in a speaking tube; this person then whispered to two or three other girls who stood behind the counter, causing them to stare continuously at Mavis. Presently, the speaking tube whistled, when a message came to say that if Miss Keeves would walk upstairs, Mr Orgles would see her. The shop-walker walked before Mavis to show her the way. She could not help noticing that the man's demeanour had changed: he had approached her, when he first saw her, with the servility peculiar to his occupation; now, having fathomed her errand, he marched before her with elbows stuck out and head erect, as if to convey what an important personage he was.

She was shown into a plainly furnished office, where she was told to wait. She wondered if, at last, she would have any luck. She sat there for about ten minutes, when a man came into the room, shutting the door after him. He was about sixty-five, and walked with a stoop. His face reminded Mavis of a camel. He had large bulging eyes, which seemed to gaze at objects sideways. He looked like the deacon at a house of dissenting worship, which, indeed, he was. Mavis rightly concluded this person to be Mr Orgles.

"You wished to see me?" he asked.

"Mr Orgles?"

"That's my name."

Mavis explained why she had called: it was as much as she could do to hide her anxiety. Mr Orgles not making any reply, she went on speaking, saying how she would do her utmost to give satisfaction in the event of her being engaged.

While she was pleading, she was conscious that the man was looking in his sideways fashion at her figure. He approached her. Mavis suddenly felt an instinct of repugnance for the man. She said all she could think of, but Mr Orgles remained silent; she anxiously scanned his face in the hope of getting some encouragement from its expression, but she might as well have stared at a brick wall for all the enlightenment she got. Then followed a few moments' pause, during which her eyes were riveted on Mr Orgles's nostrils: these were prominent, large, dilating; they fascinated her. As he still remained silent, she presently found courage to ask:

"Will you take me?"

He turned his face so that one of his eyes could look into hers, fiercely as she thought. He shook his head. Mavis uttered a little cry; she rose to go.

"Don't go," said a voice beside her.

Mr Orgles was standing quite near.

"Do you badly want a place?"

"Very badly."

"H'm!"

His big nostrils were dilating more than ever; he turned his head so that one of his eyes again looked into hers.

"Something might be got you," continued the man.

"It all depends on influence."

Mavis looked up quickly.

"I was wondering if you'd like me to do my best for you?"

"Oh, of course I would."

"Excuse me," said Mr Orgles, as he took what seemed to be a tiny piece of fluff from the skirt of her coat. "You must have got it coming upstairs."

"Do you think you would speak for me?" Mavis found words to ask.

Mr Orgles's eyes again rested on Mavis, as he said:

"It depends on you."

"On me?"

"You say you have never been out in the world before?"

"Not really in the world."

"I am sorry."

"Sorry!" echoed Mavis.

"Because you haven't lived; you don't know what life can be—is," cried Mr Orgles, who now waved his arms and moved jerkily about the girl.

She looked at him in astonishment.

"Excuse me; a further bit of fluff," said Mr Orgles.

This time he placed his hand upon the breast of her coat and seemed in no hurry to remove it.

Mavis flushed and moved away; at any other time she would have hotly resented his conduct, but today she was desperately anxious to get employment, Mr Orgles took courage from her half-heartedness.

"Let me show you," he cried.

"Show me what?" she asked, perplexed.

"How to live: how to enjoy life: how to be happy. The rest is easy: you will be employed here; you will rise to great things; and it will all be owing to me."

Mavis looked at the excited, gesticulating old man in surprise; she wondered if he were right in his senses. Suddenly, his gyrations ceased; he glanced at the door and then moved his head in order to dart a horrid glance at the girl. He then approached her with arms outstretched.

Mavis intuitively knew what he meant. Her body quivered with rage; the fingers of her right hand clenched. Perhaps the man saw the anger in her eyes, because he stopped; but he was near enough for Mavis to feel his hot breath upon her cheek.

Thus they stood for a moment, he undecided, she on the defensive, when the door opened and a man came into the room. Mr Orgles, with an unpleasant look on his face, turned to see who the intruder might be.

"I've been looking for you, Orgles," said the man.

"Indeed, sir! Very sorry, sir," remarked Mr Orgles, who wore such an attitude of servility to the newcomer that Mavis could hardly believe him to be the same man.

"I see you're busy," continued the intruder. "Engaging someone in Miss Jackson's place?"

"I was thinking about doing so, sir."

"Why hesitate?"

Here the man—he was tall, dark, and fresh-coloured—looked kindly at Mavis; although not a gentleman, he had an unmistakable air of authority.

"There's no reason why I shouldn't, sir, only—"

"Only what?"

"She's had no experience, sir."

The man turned to Mavis and said:

"If your references are satisfactory, you can consider yourself as engaged from next week."

"Oh, thank you," said Mavis, trying to voice her gratitude.

"Call to-morrow with your references at eleven and ask for Mr Skeffington Dawes," said the stranger.

A great gladness and a great reproach came to the girl's heart: a great gladness at having secured work; a great reproach at having believed that there was no one who cared if a human sparrow, such as she, should fall.

She bowed her thanks to Mr Skeffington Dawes and left the room, all unconscious of the malignant glance that Mr Orgles shot at her, after turning his head to bring the girl within his range of vision.