GOLDSTEIN'S JEWELRY STORE
There was this time for Ellen no interested inspection of the
landscape. Her gaze, directed to the back of the next seat, did not
lift to the hat of its occupant, but remained fixed upon the dusty red
plush. In the fields men and women were cutting corn, their blue jeans
suits the color of the river which reflected in a darker tone the clear
sky. Here and there showed a red or yellow branch and there were masses
of weeds which were already brown.
During her journey, which seemed like the day of Matthew's wedding,
both long and short, Ellen made futile efforts to assemble and arrange
her thoughts. The act which she was now executing she had dreamed of
innumerable times, but her rage with Matthew and Millie had driven her
to it before she was wholly prepared for independence. Her thoughts
recurred bitterly to the scene of the evening before. Millie was
evil-minded, hateful; she had bewitched Matthew into marrying her by
pretending to be better than she was; she persuaded him now to claim
everything for himself, to prevent Ellen from going to school in order
that she herself might have more.
She suspected that it was Millie who had suggested felling the trees.
But of that sacrilege she could not think and keep her composure. She
heard the rasping sound of the wood saw; she watched the mighty trunks
crash down, emitting almost human sounds of pain. Matthew should be
punished; he should be made to suffer an equivalent for all that he had
made her suffer.
She understood, however, that one could not safely allow one's mind to
be forever occupied with one's wrongs. She now had her future in her
own hands, and she did not doubt that work would be easily secured.
In the hundreds of stores there would be a place for her; where so
many persons were gathered all kinds of workers would be needed. She
did not doubt her ability to sell goods of any sort. She might find
it necessary to take a humble position at first, but she would rise
rapidly.
When she reached the dark train-shed in Harrisburg, hands and knees
were trembling. The waiting-room was crowded with passengers for an
excursion train, and she felt the country-dweller's discomfort and
irritation at being jostled. There had been no time to notify Mrs.
Sassaman, but she was like the sun, she did not move from place to
place. Ellen inquired the way to Hill Street and signaled the proper
car.
But the car did not stop. A second also sailed by, but the third was
driven by a motorman of friendlier spirit who motioned to the opposite
corner, and she climbed aboard, conscious of eyes upon her. She became
immediately aware that she did not look like the other women, that her
dress and coat were a size too small, and that the style of her hat
bore no relation to the present fashion.
When she found at last the house of Mrs. Sassaman's sister, Mrs.
Lebber, she stood still in dismay. One of a sordid row hanging on the
edge of a hillside above the railroad yards, even the bright September
sunshine could not make it seem a possible abode. There must be a
mistake! But a little marker on the house itself said "Hill Street,"
and this was Number 34.
Doubts were soon put to flight by the appearance of Mrs. Sassaman, a
stouter, paler creature, but Mrs. Sassaman without question, who gazed
at Ellen speechlessly while she held fast to the door.
"_Oh, thou dear peace!_" she said at last. "Ellen, is it you?"
Ellen could not speak. Mrs. Sassaman cooed like a mourning dove.
"Did you come to see me once then, Ellen?"
Ellen nodded, and Mrs. Sassaman opened the door wider upon an
atmosphere saturated with the steam of washing and scented with the
odor of boiling sauerkraut, and led her into a little parlor where she
sat down and put her satchel on the floor. Mrs. Sassaman's tears had
begun to flow and it was not until several moments had passed that she
could proceed.
"Well, Ellen!" said she again.
"I have come to the city to work," explained Ellen, trying to express
in her voice the courage which she believed she felt in her soul.
Mrs. Sassaman was not encouraging.
"Oh, Ellen, the city is an awful place! People, people, people, and
dirt, dirt, dirt!"
"I'm not afraid of it. I'm not going to stay here always. I mean to get
a place in a store, and I shall study in the evenings, until I've saved
enough to go to college."
"Are you then still trying to be learned, Ellen?"
"I'm going to college," said Ellen stubbornly. "I thought perhaps I
could get a room where you lived."
"Here?" said Mrs. Sassaman. Alas, by her desire to live on Hill Street
Ellen descended from the pedestal upon which the Levises should have
remained exalted! "I could ask my sister."
Mrs. Sassaman retired into a quarter nearer the source of the steam and
the odor, and returning brought with her a mournful replica of herself.
Mrs. Lebber had been the wife of a railroad conductor and had remained
after his sudden death in the house to which he had brought her as a
bride. She had insurance and death benefits sufficient to support her
body and she had a grievance against the railroad company upon which
she fed her soul. Life had cruelly disappointed her. Like Mrs. Sassaman
she had expected to get married and to remain married and to be a
clinging vine. She looked at Ellen with curiosity and disappointment.
"Is this then Ellen!" The sentence was not interrogatory but
exclamatory. It said, "This the beautiful scion of a prosperous and
famous family of whom I have had to hear so much!"
She sat down heavily.
"She would like if she could get a room here," exclaimed Mrs. Sassaman.
Mrs. Lebber stared in astonishment at Ellen. Mrs. Sassaman had shown no
sisterly frankness in her recent accounts of the Levis family, but now
their fallen state was plain. Mrs. Lebber had a harmless but inordinate
curiosity.
"Why does she leave her nice home?" The question implied a doubt about
the niceness of the home.
"I wanted to come to the city to work."
"Her brother is married now."
"I'm afraid you've made a mistake." Mrs. Lebber contemplated the faded
picture of the railroad conductor above the mantelpiece. "I never would
'a' thought I would have to take any one in to live with me for money.
I thought always that I would have it better than I do have it."
"And I too," mourned Mrs. Sassaman.
Ellen bent her head. This was a doleful beginning. But in her "David
Copperfield" there was a picture of the hero sitting with his satchel
beside him, as she was sitting now. The recollection heartened her.
"I guess you could have the little room," said Mrs. Lebber; "that is,
if it is you good enough."
Ellen carried her satchel up the stairs. The room indicated contained a
bed, a bureau, and a chair; the remaining space measured about six feet
by four. The lifted shade revealed the railroad yards and the sky.
"Just look once!" cried Mrs. Lebber, pointing tragically to a drift of
black particles on the window-sill. "Do all you can and it don't help."
Having agreed to Mrs. Lebber's modest price, Ellen partook of the
sauerkraut and descended once more to the business section. Food had
restored her and she felt in herself a sense of adventure. She must
expect unpleasant experiences, she reminded herself, and when they came
she must remember her goal. She was in no immediate need of money,
for pinned inside her dress were five ten dollar bills for which she
had exchanged the nickels and dimes and quarters saved through her
childhood, and the spending money which Matthew had given her.
She acquired between the hours of one and five a good deal of
experience of store-keepers and their ways. She went first to the
department store near the station where Amos bought his books and
questioned the clerk nearest the door. The clerk looked at her
curiously and directed her to an office on the second floor.
"I'd like to fix that country pippin up."
"She'll fix herself up," was the short reply from her nearest neighbor.
"Give her time!"
In the office Ellen's name and age and address were recorded by a
young woman who spoke to her through a brass grill. Had she had
experience in clerking? No. Training in business college? No. How
much education--High School? Ellen thought she had had at least an
equivalent. The clerk blotted her book with an air of finality.
"Have you a place for me?"
"Not now, of course. We take on extras when the holiday trade begins.
We'll let you hear from us."
In a few other establishments Ellen's name and history were recorded,
but in most places she was answered merely by a shake of the head.
Every one, she realized, looked at her last summer's gingham.
Finally in a little jewelry store near the entrance to the subway
through which the street descended under the railroad, she was
successful. The articles in the crowded window looked very valuable,
though they were paste and plated ware. The customers were chiefly men,
passengers from the trains who stopped to have their watches regulated
and to spend a few minutes of spare time. The proprietor listened to
Ellen with interest and engaged her promptly, promising her six dollars
a week and an advance if she did well. He looked at her even more
sharply than he listened to her, and when she had gone he nodded his
satisfaction.
Mrs. Lebber did not view this engagement with approval.
"Is he a married man, this Mr. Goldstein?"
"I don't know."
"Are you there alone with him in his store?"
"No; men repair watches in a little room at the back."
Mrs. Lebber shook her head.
"There are very bad people in the city. Most are bad."
Ellen recalled Millie's account of the experiences of her acquaintances
who went to the city to find work and who were set upon as though
they were lambs venturing into the lairs of wolves. She scorned both
Millie's tales and Mrs. Lebber's fears.
She went to her room and unpacked her belongings; then by the dim light
she wrote to Matthew asking him to forward her larger satchel. Having
wiped away a few angry tears, she opened her algebra and fixed her mind
upon it.
When she laid her head on her pillow she felt under her cheek the sharp
points of the black dust she had seen on her window-sill and had felt
under her hand as she touched the furniture. Sometimes a light shower
fell upon her cheek. The trains had thundered in the abyss all the
evening, but she had a vague notion that they would now go to bed.
Instead their activity increased; they seemed to come in the window and
go out the door, to threaten the foundations of the house.
Finding sleep impossible she considered the weapons with which she was
to fight her battles. The education which was so superior to that of
her country neighbors was, it seemed, unfortunately not correlated with
the requirements of department stores. But she had a mind and she would
learn. In the second place, she had physical strength. She did not
count in the least upon her curly hair, her clear skin, her dark eyes,
and her round figure, nor realize that it was these possessions which
had won her her first situation.
Having exhausted herself as a subject for study, she thought of Mrs.
Sassaman, who had changed. In the light of the old days she decided
that Mrs. Sassaman, by turns silent and communicative and frequently on
the verge of tears, had "something on her mind."
She went to work the next morning, having made up for sleep by a cup of
strong coffee. Her employer had opened his shop and was now finishing
the sweeping of his floor, a task which was to be hers from now on.
"I guess it won't hurt your dress," he said pleasantly.
Ellen did not catch the inner meaning of his remark.
"You might get a little something new once," suggested Mr. Goldstein.
"Just a new waist, perhaps; it would improve you."
He showed Ellen where she was to stand.
"There by the window. I'll look after the back of the shop. The women
have sure always the easy time, ain't it so?"
Ellen perched upon a high stool behind the counter and looked out at
the passing throng of men and women from neighboring villages. She
caught a man's wandering glance; he entered and offered a watch which
needed attention. Having directed him to Mr. Goldstein, who carried
his watch to the workroom at the rear, Ellen looked again toward the
street. A second passer-by met her eye and came in, requesting a chain
from the case before her. The chains were plainly labeled, a sale was
soon consummated and Mr. Goldstein took the burden of making change.
The first customer stopped to speak to her on his way out, but was
interrupted by the arrival of a third.
"I'll be back when you're not so busy," he promised with reference--at
least so she thought--to the purchase of a chain for his repaired watch.
There are a good many empty-minded men who turn aside at the glance
of a pair of dark and straightforward eyes, but the supply is
not inexhaustible. The middle of the morning brought a period of
comparative idleness, when Mr. Goldstein joined the corps of workmen
and Ellen sat with folded hands; at noon there was another season of
activity followed by another period of idleness. During this period her
heart suddenly jumped. What could she not accomplish in these hours!
She brought with her the next morning her General History.
The morning stream of pedestrians interested her, though she never got
a long look at it, so rapid was the entrance of customers. When trade
slackened and Mr. Goldstein had gone to his watch-mending, she opened
her book. She was entirely innocent of any intention to steal his time,
and he was for a while ignorant of the theft, since he made the opening
of the shop-door which was her signal for laying down her book, his
signal for a return. She studied a large and never-to-be-forgotten
portion of General History. Her book served a minor purpose; she no
longer caught the eyes of passers-by.
Fate was not so partial that she kept Mr. Goldstein forever in
ignorance of this offense against all the laws of contract between
employer and employee. He found before the end of the week Ellen's
book under the counter; he heard with irritation the amused comments
of his friends. If he had caught her in the beginning of her duplicity
he would merely have admonished her, but he realized that she had got
the better of him for almost a week--not an easy matter, he proudly
boasted. He dismissed her with eloquence.
"Did you think I couldn't get no other girls that you could try to make
such a fool of me, say? Did you think I run a university? The men on
the street say to me, 'Say, is it true that you employ a reader to sit
in your window all the time and read a book?' They ask me do you read
to me while I work and if it is the Scripture. You can go, and there is
your pay."
A pale Ellen stared at him.
"I waited on everybody who came in!"
"Did you think waiting on everybody who came in was what I had you
for?" inquired Mr. Goldstein with scorn. "I do the waiting."
"What did you engage me for?" she asked, bewildered.
Mr. Goldstein believed that she was as innocent as she seemed.
"Nobody will come in here to see an old man, will they? I engaged you
because you had black eyes."
Ellen's black eyes were for a moment not visible. Then she put on her
hat and took the docked wages held out to her. She was not at first
insulted, she was only humiliated. But on the way up the dreary hill
her sense of outrage grew. Her eyes filled with tears; she longed for
her room and for a chance to cry. She felt homeless, and forlorn. She
had been driven from her own home and she had no other.
Then in Mrs. Lebber's dismal little hall she stood still. In the parlor
sat the last person whom she wished to see at this moment--Matthew,
with her satchel beside him.