JOAN HASTE, H. RIDER HAGGARD [free ereaders TXT] 📗

was not so fortunate, however; about half-way across she lost her head, and, having been nearly knocked down by the pole of an omnibus, stood bewildered till a policeman seized her by the arm and dragged her into safety.

"You see, my dear," said Mrs. Bird, "although you are so strong, you are not quite competent to wheel Jim at present. First you must learn to look after yourself."

Then they went for their walk in the Park, which Joan enjoyed, for it was all new to her, especially when she was allowed to push the precious chair; and returned to Kent Street in time for tea.

The rest of the afternoon and evening passed like those of the previous day, and the morrow was as the yesterday had been. Indeed, there was little variety in the routine of the Bird /ménage/--so little that Joan soon began to wonder how they distinguished one month or one year from another. Few customers came to the house, for most of the dress-making was put out to Mrs. Bird by the managers of large shops, who had confidence in her, and were not afraid to trust her with costly materials, which she made up, generally into skirts, and took back in the evenings.

So it came about that all day long Mrs. Bird and Sally sewed, while Jim carved endless walking-sticks, and Joan sat by giving such help as she could, now listening to her hostess's good-natured chatter and now to the shrill song of the canary. At first, after all that she had gone through, this mode of life was a rest to her. It was delightful to be obliged neither to think nor to work unless she so wished; it was delightful to know that she was beyond the reach of Samuel Rock, and could not be harried by the coarse tongue of Mrs. Gillingwater or by the gossip of her neighbours. The atmosphere of goodness in which she lived was very soothing also: it was a new thing for Joan to pass her days where there was no hate, no passion, no jealousy, and no violence--where, on the contrary, charity and loving-kindness reigned supreme. Soon she grew very fond of little Mrs. Bird, as, indeed, anybody must have done who had the good fortune to know her; and began to share her adoration of the two "babies," the great patient creature who faced his infirmities with a perpetual smile, and the sweet child from whom love seemed to radiate.

But after a while, as her body and mind shook off their weariness, these things began to pall; she longed for work, for anything that would enable her to escape from her own thoughts--and as yet no work was forthcoming. At times, tiring of Jim's smile as he hewed out libellous likenesses of herself upon his walking-sticks, and of the trilling of the canary, she would seek refuge in her own sitting-room, where she read and re-read the books that Henry had given her; and at times, longing for air, she would escape from the stuffy little house to the Park, to walk up and down there till she grew weary--an amusement which she found had its drawbacks. At last, when she had been a fortnight in Kent Street, she asked Mrs. Bird if there was any prospect of getting employment.

"My dear," was the answer, "I have inquired everywhere, and as yet without success. To-night I am taking this skirt back to Messrs. Black and Parker, in Oxford Street, and I will ask their manager, who is quite a friend of mine, if he has an opening. Failing this I think you had better advertise, for I see that you are getting tired of doing nothing, and I do not wonder at it--though you should be most thankful that you can afford to live without work, seeing that many people in your position would now be reduced to starvation."

That night, Mrs. Bird returned from Messrs. Black and Parker's with a radiant countenance.

"My dear," she said, "there is a coincidence, quite a wonderful coincidence. The young woman at Messrs. Black and Parker's whose business it was to fit on the cloaks in the mantle department has suddenly been called away to nurse a sick uncle in Cornwall from whom she has expectations, and they are looking out for some one to take her place, for, as it chances, there is no one suitable for the post in their employ. I told the manager about you, and he said that I was to bring you there to-morrow morning. If they engaged you your pay would be eighteen shillings a week to begin with; which is not much, but better than nothing."

Accordingly, on the following morning, having arrayed herself in her best dress, and a pretty little bonnet that she had made with the help of Sally, Joan set out for Messrs. Black and Parker's in the company of Mrs. Bird.

Messrs. Black and Parker's establishment was an enormous one, having many departments.

"You see it is a first-class shop, my dear," said Mrs. Bird, glancing with veneration at the huge windows filled with /chefs-d'oeuvres/ of the milliner's and other arts. "Now follow me, and don't be nervous." And she led the way through various divisions till she reached a large box built of mahogany and glass labelled "Manager's Office. No admittance except on business."

At this moment the door of the box opened, and from it issued an oiled and curled specimen of manhood, with very white hands and hair so wavy that it conveyed a suggestion of crimping tongs.

His eye fell upon Joan, and he bowed obsequiously.

"Can I do anything for you, madam?" he said. "We are so full this morning that I fear you are not being attended to."

"She is not a customer, Mr. Waters," said Mrs. Bird, emerging from behind Joan's tall shape: "she is the young person about whom I spoke to you, who wants a situation as show-woman."

"Oh! is she?" said Mr. Waters, with a complete change of manner; "then why didn't you say so at first? Well, she's a pretty girl anyway. Step in here, miss, and take off your jacket, please, so that I can see what your figure is like."

Joan did as she was told, although she felt a hate of this individual swelling in her heart. Mr. Waters surveyed her critically for half a minute or more, shutting first one eye and then the other, as though to bring her better into focus.

"Any experience?" he said laconically--"I mean of business."

"No, sir, none," Joan answered.

"Ah! I see: a lady, I suppose."

"I am not a lady, sir," replied Joan.

"Ain't you?--then you imitate the article very well."

"Just what I feared," murmured Mrs. Bird, shaking her head.

"However," he went on, "we can overlook that fault; but I have another doubt about you. You're too good-looking. Our customers like to see their things tried on a fine figure, of course, but they don't like to see them tried on a girl who makes them look common dowds beside her. Why, a three-guinea mantle would seem a better thing on your back than a forty-pound cloak on most of them. You'd show off the goods, I dare say, but I doubt that you would frighten away custom."

"I thought that tall people were always wanted," hesitated Joan.

"Tall people!" said Mr. Waters, with an admiring snigger; "just you look at yourself in this pier glass, and I think that you will see something else there beside height. Now, I'll give you a bit of advice: you drop this show and go on to the stage. You'll draw there; yes, even if you can't sing or act a bit, there are hundreds who would pay to come and look at you. By George! I'm not sure that I wouldn't myself."

"I do not wish to go on the stage," answered Joan stiffly; and Mrs. Bird behind her murmured, "No! never!" in sympathetic tones. "If you think that I shall not suit," she added, "I will not take up your time any longer."

"I didn't say that, miss. Here!"--and he put his head out of the door and called to a shop-woman--"just give me that velvet mantle, will you? Now, miss," he said: "you fancy that Mrs. Bird's a customer, and let me see you try to sell her this cloak."

Joan's first impulse was to refuse, but presently a sense of the fun of the situation prevailed, and she rose to it, mincing, smiling, and praising up the garment, which she hung upon her own shoulders, bending her graceful shape this way and that to show it in various lights and attitudes, till at length Mrs. Bird exclaimed, "Well, I never!--you're a born actress, my dear. You might have been bred to the business. I should have bought that cloak long ago, I should, though, saving your presence, Mr. Waters, I don't think it is worth the price asked."

"You'll do," said the manager, rubbing his hands, "if only you can forget that you are a lady, and have /nous/ enough to flatter when you see that it is welcome, and that's always where ladies and their clothes are concerned. What's your name?"

"Haste: Joan Haste."

"Very well, Miss Haste. Let's see: to-day is Saturday, so you may as well begin on Monday. Hours nine to seven, dinner and tea provided, also black silk dress, that you put on when you come and take off when you leave. I should think that the last young lady's would fit you pretty well with a little alteration, unless you like to buy one yourself at cost price."

"Thank you, I think that I will buy one for myself."

"Indeed! Well, so much the better for us. It is usual to ask for references as to character, and security, or a sum on deposit; but I understand that Mrs. Bird guarantees all that, so we will say no more about it. The wages will be eighteen shillings a week for the first six months, and after that a pound if we are satisfied with you. Do you agree to these terms?"

"Yes."

"Very well, then. Good morning."

"There's a smart girl," reflected Mr. Waters to himself, "and a real beauty too. But she's a fool for all that; she ought to go on the boards--she'd have a future there. However, it's her affair, not mine."

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Bird to Joan, "you got through that capitally. At first I thought that he would never engage you, but he seemed to take quite a liking to you before the end. What do you think of him?"

"I think him odious," said Joan.

"Odious, my dear! What a strong term! Free and easy, if you like, but not odious. He is much better than most of them, I can tell you."

"Then the rest must be very bad indeed," said Joan, and continued on her way in silence.

CHAPTER XXV("I FORBID YOU.")

 

On the following Monday morning Joan began her career as a shop-girl, to describe which in detail would be too long, however instructive it might prove. Her actual work, especially at this, the dead season of the year, was not so hard as she had expected, nor was she long in mastering her duties; but, accustomed as she had been to a country life