"Tom Herbert, are you aware that this is the sixth spoonful of sugar you
have put in that cup of tea? and what a forlorn face! I'd as lief look
at a tombstone. Now look at _me_. Did you ever see such a fit as that
boot? Is not my hair as smooth and as glossy as if I expected to dine
with some other gentleman than my husband? Is not this jacket a miracle
of shapeliness? Look what a foil you are to all this loveliness;
lack-lustre eyes--mouth drawn down at the corners: you are a dose to
contemplate."
"Mary," said her husband, without noticing her raillery; "do you
remember Mrs. Hall?"
"Mrs. Hall," replied Mary; "oh, Ruth Ellet? yes; I used to go to school
with her. She has lost her husband, they say."
"Yes, and a fine noble fellow he was too, and very proud of his wife.
I remember he used to come into the store, and say, with one of his
pleasant smiles, 'Herbert, I wonder if you have anything here handsome
enough for my wife to wear.' He bought all her clothes himself, even to
her gloves and boots, and was as tender and careful of her as if she
were an infant. Well, to-day she came into my store, dressed in deep
mourning, leading her two little girls by the hand, and asked to see me.
And what do you think she wanted?"
"I am sure I don't know," said Mary, carelessly; "a yard of black crape,
I suppose."
"She wanted to know," said Mr. Herbert, "if I could employ her to make
up and trim those lace collars, caps, and under sleeves we sell at the
store. I tell you, Mary, I could scarce keep the tears out of my eyes,
she looked so sad. And then those poor little children, Mary! I thought
of you, and how terrible it would be if you and our little Sue and
Charley were left so destitute."
"Destitute?" replied Mary; "why her father is a man of property; her
brother is in prosperous circumstances; and her cousin lives in one of
the most fashionable squares in the city."
"Yes, wife, I know it; and that makes it all the harder for Mrs. Hall to
get employment; because, people knowing this, take it for granted that
her relatives help her, or _ought_ to, and prefer to give employment to
others whom they imagine need it more. This is natural, and perhaps I
should have thought so too, had it been anybody but Harry Hall's wife;
but all I could think of was, what Harry (poor fellow!) _would_ have
said, had he ever thought his little pet of a wife would have come
begging to me for employment."
"What did you tell her?" said Mary.
"Why--you know the kind of work she wished, is done by forty hands, in a
room directly over the store, under the superintendence of Betsy Norris;
of course, they would _all_ prefer doing the work at home, to coming
down there to do it; but that is against our rules. I told her this,
and also that if I made an exception in her favor, the forewoman would
know it, because she had to prepare the work, and that would cause
dissatisfaction among my hands. What do you think she said? she offered
to come and sit down among those girls, and work _with_ them. My God,
Mary! Harry Hall's wife!"
"Of course that was out of the question, wife, for she could not bring
her two children there, and she had no one to leave them with, and
so she went away; and I looked after her, and those little bits of
children, till they were out of sight, trying to devise some way to get
her employment. Cannot you think of anything, Mary? Are there no ladies
you know, who would give her nice needlework?"
"I don't know anybody but Mrs. Slade," replied Mary, "who puts out
work of any consequence, and she told me the other day that she never
employed any of those persons who 'had seen better days;' that somehow
she couldn't drive as good a bargain with them as she could with a
common person, who was ignorant of the value of their labor."
"God help poor Mrs. Hall, then," exclaimed Harry, "if _all_ the sex are
as heartless! _We_ must contrive some way to help her, Mary--help her to
_employment_, I mean, for I know her well enough to be sure that she
would accept of assistance in no other way."