"We should treat you with all delicacy and appreciation of
the fact that your misfortunes have compelled you to take
a--a--position--which--which--"
"You are very kind, Mrs. Tevis," said I.
"And we realized that in all probability the Burkes would have no
further use for your services at the end of this season, as you have
been most successful with them."
I winced. For the first time the "practical" view of what I've been
doing for the Burkes stared me in the face--that is, the view which
such people as the Tevises, perhaps many of my friends, took of it. So
I was being regarded, spoken of, discussed, as a person who had been
bought by the Burkes to get them in with certain people. And it was
assumed that, having got what they wanted, they would dismiss me and so
cut off a superfluous expense! I was somewhat astonished at myself for
not having seen my position in this light before.
And I suddenly realized why I hadn't--because the Burkes were really
nice people, because I hadn't been their employee but their friend.
What if I had started my career as a dependent of Mrs. Tevis'! I
shivered. And when the Burkes should need me no longer--why, the
probabilities were that I should have to seek employment from just
such dreadful people as these--upstarts eager to jam themselves in,
vulgarians whom icy manners and forbidding looks only influence to
fiercer efforts to associate with those who don't wish to associate
with them.
Mrs. Tevis interrupted my dismal thoughts with a cough, intended to be
polite. "What--what--compensation would you expect, may I ask?"
"What do such positions pay?" I said, and my voice sounded harsh to me.
I wished to know what value was usually put upon such services.
"Would--say--twenty-five dollars a week be--meet with your views?"
she asked, and her tone was that of a person performing an act of
astounding generosity.
"Oh, dear me, no," said I, with the kind of sweetness that coats a pill
of gall. "I couldn't think of trying to get you in for any such sum as
that."