Читать книгу Delight - Mazo de la Roche - Страница 10

Table of Contents

Breakfast was ready. Already half the boarders were in their places. These were tannery hands, men from the dye works and jam factory, who had to be at their work early. They sat at a long table by themselves, distinct from the commercial table, the table for other transients, and the table for boarders of a higher class. They were boarded at a low rate, had, in consequence, no table-napkins or bill-of-fare, wiping their mouths on their handkerchiefs when through eating, and being told what choice there was for them by the waitress. It was this table that Delight was to serve.

She and May were in the pantry between the dining-room and kitchen. She was all a-tremble with excitement.

“Do I look tidy, May?” she whispered, glancing over her neat black dress with its sleeves to the wrists and modestly rounded neck, for it was a time when clothes were still made to conceal, and one might even cross the street to see a motor car in Brancepeth.

“Your apron’s a bit at one side,” answered May, straightening it, “but you look as fresh as a daisy. Oh, Delight, do be on the watch for ’im. You’ll know ’im the minute you set eyes on ’im. A kind of bullet ’ead, and those blue eyes like a biby, and ’is teeth just a space apart.”

“Lord, d’you expect me to turn his face up and look into his mouth?”

“Don’t be ’ateful,” replied May, her eyes filling with tears. “If you only knew the ache in me ’ere,” she pressed her hand to her heart.

“Now, don’t you worry, May! I’m just skittish ’cause I’m nervy. Tell me again what I’m to say to him.”

“Lean over ’im and whisper—‘Remember your May. Be on the watch tonight.’ That’ll fetch ’im.”

Annie threw open the swing door from the kitchen and fastened it. “Mrs. Jessop’s looking for you,” she said to May. “She wants you to get busy on the bedrooms. Come on, Delight.”

Annie led the way to the dining-room with an air of deserved superiority. She met an early traveller at the door, led him to the commercial table, seated him, and handed him the bill-of-fare. He took out a pair of eye-glasses, adjusted them to his nose, and was about to read when his eyes fell on Delight. For a moment he stared through his glasses; next he bent his head and looked over them; then he took them off and stared. Then he looked up at Annie. “I’ve never seen that girl here before, have I?” he asked.

“No, sir. She’s a new one, just out from the Old Country. She don’t know much yet. I’ve got to take her in hand.”

“Well, well.” He turned with a sigh, and picked up the bill-of-fare.

Delight, in her close, black dress that strained darkly to cover her exuberant charms, swayed above the boarders. She was happy. These hungry men, with the odours of their occupations hanging about them, seemed like her little children whom she was about to feed. She had been told by Mrs. Bye, the cook, to ask them whether they would have oatmeal porridge or Force. Force was a breakfast food of the day. As she bent over each she asked gently:

“Oatmeal porridge or Forces?”

For some reason she did not like the sound of the singular Force. It was a harsh, disagreeable word. It made her think of wife-beating. But Forces—that was different—she had heard of forces at work. Well, these men must work, so why not work on Forces! From her the word seemed a caress, as she softly rolled the r.

The boarders preferred the good porridge, but it was impossible to resist the seduction of that tone.

“F-or-rces,” softly rolled each deep voice after hers.

In the kitchen cook was aghast, outraged. “Whatever has come over the men?” she exclaimed. “Here’s my whole pot of porridge going to waste, and package after package of that breakfast food opened. Mrs. Jessop’ll be in a fine taking.”

“It’s that new girl,” replied her husband. “You may depend upon it. Women are kittle-cattle, every one on ’em, but she’s the worst I seen yet. I knowed we’d have trouble with her the minute I set eyes on her.”

“But why?” cried Mrs. Bye. “Why don’t she want them to eat their porridge same as usual?”

Charley wagged his head. “Just spite, missus. She seen you had a big pot o’ porridge made, and she undertook that you’d have it left on you.”

“Well, I’ll teach her! I’ll get Mrs. Jessop after her....”

But there was one boarder who did not weakly ask for Forces. This was Kirke. Eye to eye, he and Delight faced each other, then he bit off the one word:

“Parritch.”

Delight’s lids fell. She swayed to the kitchen and said to Mrs. Bye:

“Forces.”

When the dish was set before Kirke, a heavy scowl darkened his white forehead. “I asked for parritch,” he snarled.

Delight leaned over him almost tenderly, his angry eyes caught the pearly curve beneath her chin. “There aren’t any porridge,” she breathed. “There’s just Forces.”

Forces indeed. Terrible forces at work to make Kirke and all the others eat just what she chose that they should have!

So busy was Delight that she forgot for a while to look for Albert Masters. But when the men were eating their finnan haddie and fried potatoes, she suddenly thought with remorse that she had forgotten her mission for May. Her eyes flew along the bent heads. They dwelt a moment on Kirke’s narrow sleek one at the end of the table and then moved on. Ah! that must be he. That round, fair head, those round rosy cheeks, those childlike blue eyes that were looking at her with shy pleasure. She smiled. He smiled in return and showed square teeth set a little apart. She went quickly to him, putting the sugar basin within his reach.

“Remember your May,” she whispered.

The colour deepened in his cheeks. He looked sheepishly from side to side to see if the others had heard. Then he nodded.

When the others straggled out he remained apparently engrossed in a slice of bread and jam. Kirke and Lovering went out together, using toothpicks and joking with the air of swagger fellows. They felt considerably above the other third-floor boarders by virtue of Lovering’s position as under-foreman in the dye works, and Kirke’s as a shipper in the tannery. But they preferred the cheap accommodation to a more ambitious status.

The dining-room was now empty save for Delight and the young man. He laid down his bread and got nervously to his feet. Delight came and stood beside him, a roguish smile curving towards a dimple in her cheek.

“You heard what I said, eh?” she asked in a low tone.

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “You’ve made me awful proud. When can we get together?”

“I don’t quite know. She’s upstairs with Mrs. Jessop now, makin’ beds. Couldn’t you go back to your room as though you’d forgot something?”

“She? What do you mean she?”

“Why, May, silly. She’s terrible keen to see you. You’re Albert all right, aren’t you?”

“Albert! I say, what are you giving me?”

“Why, May’s Albert. Albert Masters. I s’pose you’d like me to tell you where you first met May!” Her smile was sarcastic now. The dimple had gone into retreat.

“Look here,” exclaimed the young man, “look here. There’s a mistake. I’m not Albert. I’m Jimmy Sykes. Albert don’t board here now. He’s away up near the station.” His face was blank with disappointment. “I guess you didn’t mean anything by your whispering, then.”

“Lor’, what did you think I meant?”

“Well, you said—‘Remember, you may’!”

“Oh, listen to the boy! I said—‘Remember your May’! What did you think I meant—‘Remember, you may’?”

“I thought you meant I might make love to you.” He stared into her eyes imploringly. “Just a little. I’d be awfully disappointed if I thought it was all off between us.”

“Oh, well,” she moved a little closer to him, her head drooping toward her breast. “I’d be pretty lonely here if there was no one to like me or take me out evenings.”

He caught her hand and held it in both of his. “Oh, let me take you out, let me keep company with you just a little. Why, look here, if you only knew what I felt like when you asked me this morning if I would have oatmeal porridge or Forces, you’d be surprised, I bet.”

Her deep, mirthful eyes met his. “Tell me,” she whispered, “what did you feel like?”

“Oh, I can’t hardly explain. All tickly up the backbone, and weak, and in a kind of haze, and I wanted to eat whatever you’d bring me if it was poison.”

She smiled, showing her small white teeth; her eyelashes seemed to get irrevocably tangled. With a frantic look towards the door Jimmy Sykes caught her in his arms and planted a kiss on her cheek, then fled, late for his work.

Delight tiptoed to the commercial table and took a lump of loaf sugar from the silver bowl. She laid it on her tapering tongue, then closed her lips and sucked like a happy child. Annie opened the door and said—“You’d have time for a bite of breakfast now before the troupe comes down. You can look after them. You’ve done real well.”