I
Angelica awoke early the next morning and dressed quickly, determined to
be ready before Mrs. Russell could possibly send for her. She needn’t
have hurried; she waited from half-past six until half-past eight
without hearing a sound. Time after time she opened her door and stepped
out into the hall, to find it always empty and silent.
Finally she could tolerate it no longer, she was so much afraid that
something was expected of her, that she was betraying her awful
ignorance of rich people’s habits. She decided to go down-stairs, find a
servant, and make diplomatic inquiries about the daily procedure.
As she was going along the hall, who should come out of his room,
directly in her path, but the blond young man.
"Er--good morning," he said, with a slight frown.
"Good morning!" Angelica answered, and in her desperation added: "Say,
would you mind telling me, when does _she_ get up?"
"Ten o’clock--somewhere about then. You’d better come and have your
breakfast with me now. I’d like to have a little talk with you."
She followed him with a great assumption of carelessness--which,
unfortunately, there was no one to see--down the stairs and into a
little screened porch, where a willow table was laid. She was impressed
by what she saw, but not astonished, for she was prepared for the utmost
luxury. In fact, she couldn’t have been astonished, no matter what she
had seen, so greatly did the marvels of which she had read in the Sunday
papers exceed any possible reality.
On the table stood a copper coffee percolator, shining in the sun like
gold, and steaming softly; a nickel chafing-dish, bright as silver;
cut-glass cream-jugs and sugar-bowls like diamonds; and a cloth of
hemstitched linen. There were little willow chairs with chintz cushions
drawn up before each place, and sweet fresh flowers. She was in no way
disappointed.
She sat down opposite the young man, resolved to do exactly as he did.
He unfolded an immense napkin, then picked up the morning paper, and for
a few minutes studied the Wall Street news intently. Then, as the
servant entered, he laid the paper down and sat immovable while she drew
him a steaming cup of coffee, prepared it, and put before him a
cantaloupe cut into halves and filled with ice.
"Bring this young lady’s breakfast, if you please," he said, frowning
again.
"Now, then, miss--what is your name?" he asked Angelica, when the maid
had left the room.
"Kennedy--Angelica Kennedy."
"Miss Kennedy, I was speaking to my mother about you last night. I felt
that it wasn’t at all the thing to--for her to have engaged you as a
companion. You’re not qualified. It’s not fair to Mrs. Geraldine, and
it’s not fair to you. You couldn’t fill such a position."
He spoke with decision, with authority, but not in the least unkindly.
He spoke in the manner which his business training had given him; and
Angelica accepted it in the manner she had learned from her factory
experience. He was arbitrary and supreme; useless for her to complain,
to resent. She didn’t even trouble to think whether he was just or not;
simply, she was "fired."
"All right," she said, without emotion.
"Now," he said, "if you wish to remain in another capacity--if you wish
to be Mrs. Russell’s maid----”
"No, I don’t."
"That’s for you to decide, of course; but it’s a pleasant, easy
position, and the pay is better."
"I’m not thinking so much about pay. I could have got plenty of jobs
that would have paid twice as much as this. Only----”
"Why did you want this?" he asked, with interest.
"Well, I thought I’d----” Her dark face flushed. "I want to learn--nice
ways. I want to get on. I don’t want to be--like I am, all my life."
"You’re perfectly right!" he said, looking at her. "I’m glad to see
you’re ambitious; but why choose this sort of way to get on? Why don’t
you try to get into a good office?"
She shook her head.
"No! It wouldn’t do me a bit of good to get ahead in business if
I--didn’t have nice ways. No! I watched the papers a long time for
something I could have a try at, and then I saw Mrs. Russell’s ad, with
‘experience unnecessary.’ I knew I wasn’t the kind of girl that they
want for a companion, but I thought if I could show ’em that I could be
more useful than any one else, I might stand a chance."
He was silent for a time, while the servant reentered with a cantaloupe
for Angelica and porridge for him. Then he looked up and studied her
face.
"I think--if I’d understood the case better, perhaps----” he said. "But,
anyway, why don’t you stay as my mother’s maid? There’s no use having a
silly pride about such things. There always has to be a beginning."
"No!" she said again. "There’s no sense in that. If I can’t be--oh,
right in the family, kind of, it won’t help me. I’ll go. I couldn’t
stand being a servant."
He didn’t say any more, but continued his breakfast with hearty
appetite, and with a dexterity which she found herself quite unable to
copy. At last he had finished, and pushed back his chair.
"I’ve been thinking," he said. "You’re evidently out of the ordinary. I
don’t see why you shouldn’t be given a chance--if you’re really anxious
to improve yourself." He rose. "I’ll speak to Mrs. Geraldine this
evening, when I get home," he said. "If she agrees, you shall stay. Good
morning!"
He went out abruptly, leaving Angelica alone at the table. She jumped up
in a violent hurry, before the servant could return and find her
defenseless, and went out into the hall. She had no idea where to go,
what to do; she was bewildered and rather miserable. The young man
hadn’t made any effort to spare her feelings. Suggesting that she should
be a servant!
"He’s got a nerve, all right!" she said to herself, but half-heartedly.
Really she thought that he was right in all that he had said, and that,
in spite of his uncompromising frankness, he had been friendly. She
liked him.
"But _she’s_ different," she reflected. "I won’t let _her_ trample all
over me!"
She recalled the previous evening with burning shame. Those French
words! She felt that Mrs. Russell had been unfair and unkind, and she
went up-stairs, to find her, with deep reluctance. She was determined
not to be meek and not to be frightened.
"You’ve got to act like you were somebody!" she said to herself. "You’ve
got to show ’em you won’t stand any of their nonsense. People take you
at your own valuation!"
That was a favorite phrase of hers. She had read it often, and it quite
fell in with her cheap and pitiful philosophy. It was true enough, too,
among the people she knew--people who weren’t capable of judging or
analyzing a fellow being. She herself took others at their own
valuation, because of an unconscious conviction that she was incapable
of making an original appraisement.
So, resolutely looking as if she were somebody, she knocked at Mrs.
Russell’s door.
"Come in!" said that suave and charming voice, and she entered.
She had expected to find Mrs. Russell still in bed, lazy and
fascinating, and she was more or less surprised at finding her up and
dressed, and scribbling away at a little desk. All her charm had
vanished. She looked quite her five and fifty years; she was bony,
sallow, horribly untidy in a green sweater and a short plaid skirt that
showed her knoblike ankles and her great feet. It was rather surprising
to see her hair coming down so early in the morning, a coil of it
slipping out under her jaunty little hat. It gave her a most unpleasant,
haglike look.
"Golf this morning!" she cried cheerfully. "Damn these letters! They’ll
have to wait. Now, my dear, I’ll take you to Polly, because I’m in a
hurry to be off. Mind what you say, won’t you? She’s so exacting! Make
friends with her and stay near her. I’ve absolutely got to be gone all
day--I’ve promised so many people at the Country Club, and I’ve got to
get in a lot of practice before the big match. It’s a wonderful game,
but it makes a perfect slave of you. It’s so fatally easy to lose your
form. I take it so seriously. I worry myself ill over it. Come on!"
Angelica came after her slowly. She didn’t know whether she ought to say
anything about her talk with the blond young man--whether he expected
her to do so. Before she had decided, Mrs. Russell was knocking on a
half-open door, and a voice bade them come in.
Angelica had had a preconceived idea that this daughter-in-law would be
young and beautiful, a pampered darling. She was somewhat taken aback by
the reality. There was a woman lying in bed, reading a newspaper, which
she politely put down when they entered--a woman of forty, dark, sallow,
with heavy eyes. She was apathetic and weary, but she was not dull;
there was a quiet intelligence in her glance; she was indifferent
without being uninterested. She was like a very tired but pleased
spectator at a play. There was a charm about her lassitude, a lingering
handsomeness which she made no effort to retain.
"Good morning!" she said, with a smile.
"Good morning, Polly! Did you have a good night? I don’t believe you
did, you poor soul! I couldn’t get you out of my mind. I couldn’t sleep,
thinking about you. I would have come in, half a dozen times, only that
I was afraid of disturbing you, if you _had_ dropped off. And it worried
me so to think that I had to leave you to-day! But it couldn’t be
helped. I’ve absolutely got to go to the dentist."
"Like that?" asked Polly, glancing at the other’s costume.
"My dear, of course not! I just put these on to do a little gardening. I
was up so early; I thought I’d look after your beloved plants a bit."
"Now, why does she tell such lies?" thought Angelica. "Can’t she see
that that woman doesn’t believe her?"
"You’re going out again, then?" asked Polly, with just a shade of
reproachfulness in her voice.
"My dear, I’m obliged to go to the dentist’s----”
"You won’t be home to lunch, then, I suppose?"
"But you shan’t be alone!" cried Mrs. Russell brightly. "I’ve got Miss
Kennedy here--the daughter of an old, old friend of mine!"
And then began a new series of the most preposterous lies, flowing in a
bland, untroubled stream. She said that Angelica’s father was a
clergyman living in the country, and that Angelica was going to be
married, and that her mother had sent her to stop with Mrs. Russell
while she bought her trousseau. She added a great deal of the grossest
flattery about Polly’s superior taste.
"I advise you to consult her in everything!" she ended, turning to the
astounded Angelica. "Now, then, I’ve got to fly. You two must have a
nice, comfy chat!"
And she whimpered to Angelica as she went out:
"Just till she gets used to you, you know. Then we can tell her!"