THE NEW BOARDING-HOUSE.
Not long after Gilbert took possession of his room, the bell rang for
dinner. As at most New York boarding-houses, the last meal of the day
was dinner, not supper. Gilbert heard an adjoining door open, and,
leaving his own room, followed the occupants down to the dining-room,
which proved to be in the front basement.
The room was deep, and allowed of a long table, large enough for the
accommodation of sixteen boarders. Mrs. White, the landlady, did not
herself sit down to the table, but superintended the servants, who acted
as waiters.
“Where shall I sit, Mrs. White?” asked Gilbert.
“You may sit here, between Mr. Ingalls and Miss Brintnall.”
Neither of these persons had appeared, but Gilbert took the seat pointed
out.
One by one the boarders entered, until the table was full. Gilbert
looked about him with considerable curiosity. Mr. Ingalls proved to be a
young man of twenty-five, who was employed in a wholesale stationery
store in William Street. Miss Brintnall was an elderly-looking young
lady, who was engaged as teacher in one of the public schools of the
city. Her face was of a masculine type, and Gilbert was not surprised to
hear that she was a strong advocate of woman’s rights.
Just opposite were seated Mr. and Mrs. Theophilus Bower. He was clerk in
a dry goods house, and had been but three months married. He was an
inoffensive young man, with hair parted in the middle, who appeared to
be very fond of his young wife, who wore long ringlets, and seemed quite
a fitting match for her husband. Gilbert was rather amused by the manner
in which they addressed each other.
“Theophilus, my love, may I pass you the salt?”
“Yes, my dear.”
Occasionally, that is, as often as opportunity offered, they would press
each other’s hands under the table, the pressure being accompanied by a
languishing look, which nearly upset the gravity of Mr. Ingalls, who, in
his endeavors to suppress his merriment, once came so near choking that
he had to leave the table.
On the other side of Mr. Ingalls sat an actor at one of the city
theatres, with his wife. He seldom engaged in general conversation, but
spoke in low tones to his wife. Whether this sprang from natural
reserve, or from his mind being preoccupied with his business, opinion
was divided; but the natural consequence was that he was unpopular.
There were several other boarders, who will be referred to in due time.
Among them may be mentioned Alphonso Jones, a man of thirty, whose seedy
attire would seem to indicate limited means, but who lost no opportunity
of boasting of his aristocratic connections, and his intimacy with the
best society.
Mr. Ingalls was the first to notice his young neighbor. Mrs. White had
introduced Gilbert to his right and left hand neighbor, but left him to
make acquaintance with the rest as he could.
“Have you been long in the city, Mr. Greyson?” he asked.
“No,” said Gilbert, “but a few days.”
“I suppose you are on business?”
“I am in a broker’s office on Wall Street.”
“And I am in a wholesale stationery store not far from Wall Street. If
you have no better company, we might go down-town together in the
morning.”
“Thank you, I should like company.”
“That is, if you walk; I never ride except on stormy days.”
“Nor shall I. It’s only two miles, I believe.”
“Scarcely that; some think two miles a long walk. My brother from
Boston, who was here for a while, complained a good deal of the long
distances in New York. In Boston business men have much less distance to
travel.”
“I never was in Boston,” said Gilbert. “Is it a pleasant city?”
“It is the ‘Hub of the Universe,’ you know; so Dr. Holmes calls it, at
any rate. Yes, it is a pleasant city, but small, of course, compared
with New York. How did you happen to come to this boarding-house?”
“I saw a notice outside that boarders would be taken.”
“I hope you will like it.”
“I hope so. I am not very difficult to suit.”
“You have not been long in your place of business, I suppose.”
“No; I went there only to-day. I have always been at school till now.”
“Out of the city?”
“Yes, at Dr. Burton’s Boarding School, at Westville.”
“I have heard of it.”
Then, lowering his voice, he said, “I see, Mr. Greyson, you are looking
at the happy couple opposite.”
“They seem very happy,” said Gilbert, smiling.
“Oh, yes, they are wrapt up in each other. However, that is better than
to quarrel all the time. Do you see that tall, thin man at the end of
the table, and the lady at his side?”
“Yes.”
“There isn’t much love-making between them. They have a room adjoining
mine, and I have the privilege of listening to some of their disputes.”
“Who are they?”
“Major McDonald and his wife. He is Scotch, I believe. They married each
other for their money, I hear, and then discovered that neither had any
to speak of.”
The conversation was interrupted by Miss Brintnall, who was expressing
her views on woman’s rights.
“In my opinion,” she said, “man is a cruel and despotic tyrant. He
monopolizes the good things of this life, and only throws an occasional
crumb to poor, ill-used women. Women, for the same work, are paid less
than half as much as men. Take myself, for example. I work just as hard
as the principal of my school, yet he gets three dollars to my one. Now,
I want to know where is the justice of that?”
“Perhaps,” suggested Mr. Bower, “he has a wife and children to support.
You haven’t, you know, Miss Brintnall. Of course, you couldn’t, you
know,” he added, with a simper.
“I might have a husband and children to support, I suppose,” said Miss
Brintnall, severely.
“If that is the case, Miss Brintnall,” said Mr. Ingalls, humorously,
“you ought to let us know, that we may not cherish vain hopes.”
Miss Brintnall smiled; she generally did smile on Mr. Ingalls, who was a
favorite of hers. Indeed, it was generally thought at the table that she
would have had no objection to becoming Mrs. Ingalls, though the young
man certainly had never given her any encouragement, save by such
jocular remarks as the foregoing.
“You will have your joke, Mr. Ingalls,” she said good-humoredly; “but to
return to my argument. Is there any one present that can deny the
correctness of my statement, that man is a tyrant?”
“I can,” said little Mrs. Bower, indignantly. “My Theophilus isn’t a
tyrant, are you, dear?”
“I hope not, my love,” he answered, pressing her hand under the table.
Mr. Ingalls came near swallowing a piece of meat the wrong way, and Miss
Brintnall sniffed contemptuously.
“There may be exceptions,” she said, “but they only prove the rule; even
in your own case, Mrs. Bower, you may change your mind some years
hence.”
“I never shall, I am sure. Shall I, Theophilus, dear?”
“No, my love.”
Here Mr. Ingalls squeezed Gilbert’s hand under the table, with a comic
look, which proved very trying to our hero’s gravity.
Miss Brintnall received unexpected help from Mrs. McDonald.
“I agree with you entirely, Miss Brintnall,” said that lady, “and I
don’t believe there are any exceptions. Men always try to domineer over
women.”
“My experience is the other way,” said the major.
“Of course, I expected to hear you say so,” said the lady, tossing her
head.
“Men are very forbearing, in my opinion,” proceeded the major.
“And very unselfish, I suppose,” sneered his wife.
“That’s where you hit the nail on the head, ma’am.”
“I think,” said Alphonso Jones, “it depends very much on social rank. I
have the privilege of being intimately acquainted with some of our very
highest families, and I can assure you that they are very harmonious.
Among the lower orders, no doubt, men often act like brutes; but it is
from lack of refinement. My friends, the Tiptops, who have their villa
at Newport, never exchange a rude word. I think you are too sweeping in
your remarks, Miss Brintnall.”
“I have not the honor of knowing your grand friends, Mr. Jones,” said
Miss Brintnall, sarcastically; “but I contend that human nature is
everywhere the same. Money and rank don’t change it. I think it very
likely that some of your Fifth Avenue grandees beat their wives.”
“O Miss Brintnall!” exclaimed Mr. Bower and Mr. Jones in chorus.
“Yes, I do believe it. I won’t take a word back.”
“I don’t believe your husband will ever beat you, Miss Brintnall,” said
Mr. Ingalls, slyly.
“I think not,” said the teacher, decidedly. “I should allow him all the
rights which he could fairly claim, but I would not let him infringe
upon mine.”
“I wouldn’t marry her for a million dollars,” whispered Mr. Bower to his
wife.
“Isn’t she horrid?” was the shuddering reply.
Here some one started a new topic of conversation, and Miss Brintnall
subsided.