COURT LIFE.
[Illustration: {Drawing of Mrs. Grogan.}]
Mrs. Grogan, the baby-farmer of Rickett's Court, could hardly have been
described as a court lady, and yet she was a very typical specimen of
the women of this locality. But before introducing the reader to the
society of Rickett's Court, I must first explain how it was that we came
to make its acquaintance.
As the time approached for the concert of which I have spoken, Adelaide
was reminded of her determination to have a "violin dress" made by
Madame Celeste. Adelaide played the violin, as we thought, divinely;
she was at least the best performer at Madame's. "The violin is the
violet," I said, quoting from "Charles Auchester." "You must have a
violet-colored gown."
"A very delicate shade of china crepe will do," Adelaide replied, "made
up with a darker tint, and the sleeves must be puffed like that dress
the princess wore to the tableaux."
"Adelaide, dear," murmured Milly, "you ought to wear angel sleeves to
show your lovely arms."
"And have them flop about like a ship's pennant in a lively breeze,
during that bit of rapid bowing? That would be too grotesque."
"Puff them to the elbow," I suggested, "and then have a fall of soft
lace that will float back and give the turn of your wrist as you whip
the strings."
"See here, Adelaide," remarked Witch Winnie, "if you want something
really fine, get that Mrs. Halsey to design it for you."
"You don't suppose that I would hire a dress for the concert at a
costumer's?"
"I didn't say that; you could have it made wherever you pleased, but get
Mrs. Halsey's ideas on the subject; they are really remarkable."
Adelaide considered the subject and acted upon it, but, greatly to my
relief, she refused to do so without explaining the entire affair to
Madame.
"I'll not stand in the way of your having a nice gown," said Witch
Winnie. "Come, Tib, let's confess."
I was overjoyed, and Madame, though duly shocked, was not severe. She
even allowed Witch Winnie to take Adelaide to see Mrs. Halsey,
stipulating only that she should be chaperoned by one of the teachers.
Adelaide chose Miss Sartoris, at my suggestion, both because we liked
her, and from my feeling that her artistic instinct might be of service.
The girls were disappointed to find that Mrs. Halsey was no longer at
the costumer's. He had "pounced" her, he said, because she was "too much
of a lady for de peesness." Fortunately he could give the girls her
address--No. 1, sixth floor, Rickett's Court.
It was a very disagreeable part of town. Miss Sartoris looked doubtful
as they approached it, and was on the point of getting into the carriage
again as they alighted, but Witch Winnie had already darted through a
long dark hall which led to the court in the centre of the block, and
there was nothing for it but to follow.
Evil smells nearly choked them as they ran the gauntlet of that hall,
and they were no better off on emerging upon the sloppy court. The space
overhead, between the buildings, was laced with an intricate network of
clothes-lines filled with garments. Adelaide said she realized now where
all upper New York had its laundry work done, for this was evidently not
the wash of the court people. From their appearance it was only fair to
conjecture that they were so busy doing other people's washing that they
never had time for their own. The dirty water seemed to be thrown from
the windows into the court, where it stood in puddles or feebly trickled
into the sewer, from which emanated nauseous and deadly gases. Sickly
children were dabbling in these puddles.
"It makes me think of Hood's 'Lost Heir,'" said Miss Sartoris--
"The court,
Where he was better off than all the other young boys,
With two bricks, an old shoe, nine oyster shells, and a dead kitten by
way of toys."
They mounted a ricketty staircase grimed with dirt. Smells of new
degrees and varieties of loathsomeness assaulted them at every landing.
The Italian rag-pickers in the basement were sorting their filthy wares,
while a little girl was concocting for them the garlic stew over a
charcoal brazier. The mingled fumes came thick from the open door. Mrs.
Grogan on the first floor had paused in her washing to take a pull at a
villainous pipe. She came to the door still smoking, and carrying in her
arms an almost skeleton baby, who sucked at a dirty rag containing a
crust dipped in gin. Winnie obtained one glimpse of the interior of Mrs.
Grogan's domicile, and drew back quite pale. "Adelaide," she said, "the
room literally _swarmed_ with babies; that woman cannot have so many all
of the same age." Inquiry of Mrs. Halsey enlightened them. Mrs. Grogan
was a "baby-farmer," and boarded these children, making a good income
thereby, as their mothers were servants in good families. On the next
floor a family of eight were working in a hall-bedroom, at rolling
cigars. The large rooms were occupied by some Chinese. Mrs. Halsey
thought that they used them as an opium den. Past more doors, up three
more pairs of stairs, and they paused at No. 1. They knocked several
times, but they could not make themselves heard above the buzz and whirr
of a sewing-machine. Finally Winnie opened the door, and there sat Mrs.
Halsey bent over the machine, while the floor was piled with dainty
underclothing neatly tucked.
She sprang up, evidently pleased to see Winnie again, and motioned her
callers to the only seats which the room afforded--a chair, a trunk, and
a stool.
Winnie apologized for the interruption, and explained her errand. "But
perhaps you are too busy to design this dress," Adelaide said; "I see
you have plenty of work."
"It will not take long to make a little sketch," Mrs. Halsey replied,
"and it will be a real pleasure for me to do it." As her fingers moved
rapidly over the paper the girls took an inventory of the room. A
cracked cooking-stove, and a cupboard behind it formed of a dry-goods
box, but all the utensils were scrupulously clean. A closet, another
dry-goods case on end, with a chintz curtain in front, concealed, as
Winnie's prying eyes ascertained, a roll of bedding, which was
evidently spread on the floor at night. Mrs. Halsey knelt before a worn
table, and this, with the sewing-machine, completed the furnishing of
the apartment. No, in the window there was a row of fruit-cans
containing some geraniums. Miss Sartoris discovered them, and Mrs.
Halsey apologized for their condition. "They were just in bud," she
said, "but we were without coal for several days, and they were nipped
by frost."
Poor woman! she looked as if _she_ had been nipped by the frost too
during that bitter experience. She coughed, and Adelaide remarked, "You
ought to drink cream, Mrs. Halsey; they say it is better for a cough
than cod-liver oil."
"I have plenty of milk," the little woman replied. "The milkman for whom
my Jim works lets him have the milk that he finds left over in the cans
when he washes them out after his rounds. Sometimes there's as much as a
pint, and almost always enough for our oatmeal."
Mrs. Halsey spoke cheerily and proudly--as of a luxury which she owed
her boy. The design was completed, and Adelaide was delighted.
"Would you like to have me make the costume in tissue-paper?" Mrs.
Halsey asked; "the sleeve, at least, and this drapery; then any
seamstress can make it."
"How much will it be?" Adelaide asked, doubtfully--wondering if her
five-dollar bill would cover the charge.
"Do you think seventy-five cents too much? It would take me an
afternoon."
"But you could certainly earn more than that by your sewing."
Mrs. Halsey smiled rather bitterly. "Would you really like to know the
rates at which I work?" she asked.
Adelaide expressed her interest. "These pretty Mother Hubbard
night-gowns sell well, I am sure, but I know you can't get very much for
making them, for I bought a pair at a bargain counter for a dollar."
"It is the bargain counter which makes the low pay. I get a dollar and
thirty cents _a dozen_ for making them," said Mrs. Halsey, calmly.
"A dozen!" cried Winnie; "and how many can you make in a day?"
"Eight."
"Then you make--"
"Eighty-five cents a day; but I cannot average that."
"Can't you do better with something else?"
"I have made flannel skirts--tucked--at a dollar a dozen, but I can only
make eight of those in a day, so that is less. I have received a dollar
and twenty cents a dozen for making chemises, which sell at seven
dollars a dozen; and seventy-five cents a dozen for babies' slips, three
tucks and a hem; forty cents a dozen for corset covers. I have a friend
who works a machine in a ruffling factory; she makes a hundred and fifty
yards of hemmed and tucked ruffling a day, for which she receives
twenty-five cents. So, you see, I am better off than some."[A]
[A] See "Campbell's Prisoners of Poverty" for still more harrowing
statistics.
"And can you live on five dollars a week?"
"Six dollars, Madame; Jim earns one dollar and the milk."
"You pay for rent--"
"Six dollars a month; yes, it _is_ hard to earn that."
"You must be thankful that you have only Jim to provide for."
"The Sandys, on the floor below, have six children; five of them earn
wages. I think they earn more than their cost."
"But," said Miss Sartoris, "I thought child labor was prohibited by
law."
"Not out of school hours, or at home. Then the parents often swear a
child is over fourteen, but small of its age, and get it into a factory.
You wouldn't blame them, Madame, if you knew all the circumstances I do.
I keep Jim at his books, but the study, with the night work, I'm afraid
is killing him. They tempt him at the saloon, too, to take what they
call a 'bracer' as he goes out to drive the milk cart at 3 in the
morning, but I get up and have tea ready for him, so that he does not
yield."
"We must go now," said Miss Sartoris, kindly. "You will send Jim with
the paper pattern to-night?" Adelaide slipped a dollar into Mrs.
Halsey's hand, and would take no change. And the three went down the
stairs thoughtful and sad.
"What can we do for her?" Winnie asked.
"I am sure I don't know," replied Miss Sartoris; "she certainly seems
capable of securing better wages."
"I will speak to Madame Celeste about her," said Adelaide; and she was
as good as her word. Winnie accompanied Adelaide when she took the
pattern to the fashionable dress-maker. The modiste listened in rapt
attention to Adelaide's explanation of the gown wanted. She examined the
design with interest. "It is perfectly made," she said. "Who constructed
this for you? It is the work of an expert. Ah, Miss, if I only had now
in my establishment a designer who was with me last year! She had such a
mind for _costumes de fantaisie_! For Greek costumes to be worn at the
harp, and for Directoire dresses, I miss her cruelly, but Mademoiselle's
design is so explicit that we will have no trouble."
"Was your designer a Mrs. Halsey?" Winnie asked.
"The same, Miss. Do you know her? Can you give me her address? I must
try to get her back."
"I think you may be able to obtain her. She made this pattern for me;
but you will have to bid high, for she has her boy with her now."
"Ah yes! the boy; that was the trouble between us. Seamstresses have no
business to be mothers. Mrs. Halsey ought to give up the child entirely
to some asylum for adoption; he will always be a handicap to her; but
she does not see this, and clings to him as though she thought him her
only chance for fortune. There is a mystery in Mrs. Halsey's life. Her
husband has deserted her, and she lives in the vain hope that he will
come back some day and explain everything. She patronized me once, long
ago, when she was in better circumstances. She will not talk about her
husband, and I fancy that he is one of those defaulting cashiers who
have run away to Canada. I am willing to take her back on the old terms,
but she must give up her boy. I have an order for a set of costumes for
one of our queens of the opera. Mrs. Halsey is just the one to take it
in hand. Where did you say she could be found?"
"I think you had better communicate with her through me," Adelaide
replied; "I am not at liberty to give her address."
"And it is very possible," Winnie spoke up, eagerly, for she had seen a
gleam in Madame Celeste's eyes, "that her friends will provide for the
boy. In that case she will be more independent, and perhaps will not be
willing to return at the old salary. What shall we say is the most that
you will offer."
"Five dollars a week and her board; that is very good pay, Miss; fifty
cents more than I paid her when she was with me."
The girls could hardly wait to reach the Amen Corner to talk the matter
over. Milly was all sympathy. "I will write to papa," she said, "and get
him to send Jim to a boarding-school. I'll send for several circulars,
and find out how much it costs."
As an answer from Mr. Roseveldt might be expected the next day, we
decided to wait for it. Adelaide regretted that her father was in Omaha,
as she was sure that he would have aided in the scheme.
Mr. Roseveldt's answer was most discouraging. He regarded Milly's plan
as mere sentimental nonsense, and would take no interest in it.
"You might save something out of your allowance, Milly," suggested the
audacious Winnie.
"I give away three-fourths of it now," Milly replied, in an injured
tone. "What with the flowers I have on the organ every day for Miss
Hope, and the favors for the german, which I always furnish, and the
bonbons I give you girls, and all my other extras--"
"But, Milly dear," I exclaimed, "we would all ever so much rather you
spent the candy money for Jim than on us."
"But I want _some_ candy for myself, and I am not going to be so mean as
to munch it, and not pass any to the other girls."
It would have been a real deprivation to Milly to do without her beloved
candy. She gloated over luscious pasty "lumps of delight" in the way of
marshmallows and chocolate creams, candied fruits and marrons glacees,
and her silver bonbonniere was always filled with the most expensive
candied violets and rose-leaves. Worse than this, there were certain
little cordial drops, which were a peculiar weakness of Milly's; none of
us knew with what an awful danger she was playing, or that Milly
inherited a taste for alcoholic beverages through several generations.
But Milly was not selfish.
"Very well, girls," she said, with a sigh, "if you will go without, I
will, and we will form a total abstinence candy society. I know just how
much that means for Jim, for I paid Maillard eight dollars last month."
"You are a good girl," spoke up Emma Jane, "and if you hold to that
resolution, Milly Roseveldt, I will deal you out a cake of maple sugar
every day, from a box I've just received from some Vermont cousins. I
was wondering what I should do with it, for I don't care for sweets."
Milly's face brightened; all unconsciously she was doing as great a
kindness to herself as to Jim, and the pure maple sugar was a good
substitute for the unwholesome concoctions of the confectioner; it
satisfied her craving for sweets, and did not poison her appetite.
The rest of us added our small contributions, but the aggregate only
amounted to three dollars a week, and we were unable to learn of any
boarding-school to which Jim could be sent at those rates.
Winnie had communicated Madame Celeste's offer to Mrs. Halsey. "It would
be just the thing if I were alone," she replied, "but what would Jim do
without me?"
"Perhaps you can board him somewhere," Winnie suggested; and she told of
the sum which we girls had promised.
"If I knew of any respectable place where he would have good influences,
I would accept your kindness, as a loan, for a little while," Mrs.
Halsey replied, "for my first earnings must go for clothes. I have
friends in Connecticut; perhaps they will take Jim."
But Mrs. Halsey found that her friends had moved West. She thanked us
for our interest, but said that there seemed nothing better to do than
to continue as they were.
"I can't bear to tell Madame Celeste that she declines her offer," said
Adelaide. "_We_ must find a place for that boy."
"I don't see how," replied Winnie; but she saw, that afternoon; it came
to her all by a sudden inspiration during our botany lesson.