EARNING HER OWN LIVING
It soon became noised abroad that Miss Meta Douglas, the heiress, was no
more than any other common mortal, since her wealth had taken to itself
wings and flown away.
It seemed as if her heart must break, when, as the last day before the
sale came, she went from room to room to take a farewell view of
everything, and gather up the few precious treasures which Mr. Conrad
had told her she was at liberty to take. Aspasia had insisted upon
remaining with her until everything was over, and donning a simple
calico dress, minus either ruffle or train, she superintended with her
own fair hands the packing of valuable books, statuettes, bronzes, and
ornaments, which she knew were so dear to Brownie’s tender heart.
And when, at length, the last day arrived, early in the morning, before
even the servants were astir, she had slipped downstairs, and, moving
noiselessly from room to room, had tucked a card bearing the words
“sold” upon several of the finest paintings, which she knew Miss
Mehetabel had highly prized, from the fact of their having been brought
over from the old country.
Her father had given her permission and _carte blanche_ to perform this
delicate service for her friend.
But it was all over at last.
Everything was sold, and the house was left bare and desolate.
Aspasia had gone, and Brownie was alone.
The debts were all paid, also the bequests to the servants, which
Brownie had insisted upon, although strongly urged to invest the money
for herself.
Mr. Conrad was obliged to do her bidding, and then, with a sigh of
despair, placed two hundred dollars, all that remained of a fortune of a
million, in her little hands.
“Why, I feel quite rich!” she exclaimed, merrily, as, after counting it
over, she looked up and saw his quivering lip.
With a mighty effort he swallowed the sobs which nearly broke forth, and
managed to say:
“Now, my dear child, you will come home with me for a while. Mrs. Conrad
desires it, and Emily is lonely.”
“Thank you, dear Mr. Conrad, I cannot, as I have promised to be in New
York to-morrow morning,” she answered, with an air of business which
would have amused him had not his heart been so full.
“In New York to-morrow morning!” he ejaculated in astonishment.
“Yes, I have an engagement there.”
“An engagement? May I ask of what nature?” and he felt hurt that she had
not consulted him regarding her movements for the future.
“Certainly. I saw an advertisement a week ago for one hundred girls to
work on fancy straws. I have always been bewitched over fancy-straw
work, so I wrote, asking for a situation.”
“But you have no friends there, and where will you make your home?” he
asked, in dismay, yet admiring the resolution expressed in her bright
eye and flushed face.
“There is a boarding-house connected with the establishment for the
accommodation of those who work in the factory, and I shall board there
for the present.”
And thus it ended as Brownie decreed. He bade her farewell as she took
her seat in the train that was to bear her away, feeling worse than any
condemned criminal who had been sentenced to hard labor for life, for
she must go forth unprotected into the world to earn the bread she ate,
and he was utterly powerless to prevent it.
* * * * *
Never was there a more lonely or heart-sick girl than Brownie Douglas
when she entered the office of Ware & Coolidge the next morning, and
presented her card, and the letter she had received from them engaging
her to come into their employ.
“Do you wish to see any one, miss?” asked a clerk, as she entered the
office, and bestowing a bold stare of admiration upon her lovely face.
“I wish to see Mr. Coolidge, if you please,” Brownie answered, with cold
dignity, yet a hot flush arose to her cheek at his look and manner.
“Ah, yes, certainly. Walk this way,” and the dandy led her into an inner
office, where a man of about forty-five sat reading his paper.
“Mr. Coolidge, a young lady to see you, sir,” the young man said, and,
with another insolent stare, bowed himself out.
The gentleman immediately came forward, and Brownie gave him her card
and the letter.
“Ah, yes, Miss Meta Douglas,” he said, pleasantly, reading the name,
while his quick eye ran over her dainty figure from head to foot, taking
in her beauty and expensive apparel at a glance. “You understand the
business, I suppose. What department would you prefer to work in?”
“No, sir, I know nothing whatever about the business; I have come to
learn,” she answered, frankly and simply.
The gentleman gave her a look of surprise, then a smile of amusement
curled his lips.
“My dear young lady,” he said, a trifle embarrassed, “there is some
mistake about this. We never employ any but experienced hands. The fall
work is coming on rapidly, and we need those who can go right into it
without any showing or teaching. Did not the advertisement say ‘none but
experienced hands need apply?’”
“Yes, sir,” Brownie replied, with a sinking heart; “but I thought it
might be only a mere form; and as I am very quick to learn anything, and
necessity has suddenly compelled me to labor for my living, I thought I
would apply for the easiest work I could find.”
“Do you think straw sewing easy work?” Mr. Coolidge asked, with a genial
smile, and deeply interested in the fair stranger.
“I always thought it very pretty work, and judged it easy,” she
answered, naïvely.
“Have you relatives living in New York?” Mr. Coolidge asked,
thoughtfully.
“I have no relatives, excepting very distant ones,” and the sad tones
touched him.
“Excuse me for asking the question,” he added, courteously, “but I
feared if you remained with us, the accommodations in the boarding-house
might not be pleasant for you, and I hoped you had some other place to
which to go.”
“Thank you,” Brownie answered quietly, “but if you kindly consent to my
staying, the boarding-house will do as well for me as for the others
whom you employ.”
He opened a door opposite the one by which she had entered the office,
and led her into a long room where a hundred girls sat at tables, their
hands flying back and forth upon the hats and bonnets, as if their very
existence depended upon the number of stitches which they could set in a
minute; as it did, poor things!
“This is the wiring room,” explained Mr. Coolidge, “and I think you
could learn to do this work more easily than any other; you are not
strong enough to run a machine, and your fingers are too tender to
finish off the tips,” and he glanced at the delicate hands from which
she had drawn her gloves.
“Machines! Are hats and bonnets made by machinery?” she exclaimed, in
surprise.
“Yes,” and he smiled at her ignorance, then asked: “Do you think you
would like to work here?”
“Yes,” Brownie answered, “and I think I can learn very readily.”
“Very well. Miss Walton, please come here a moment,” Mr. Coolidge called
to the overseer of the room.
She came at his bidding.
A tall, angular, sour-visaged woman, who had been in the establishment
for years, and her face grew darker yet when her eyes fell upon the
delicate beauty of the young girl standing by her employer’s side.
She had always hated everything that was bright or beautiful, probably
because it made her own deficiency in that respect so apparent.
“Miss Walton,” continued Mr. Coolidge, “this is Miss Douglas, and I wish
you to assign her a pleasant seat in the hall, and teach her to wire
hats.”
“Teach her! I thought no inexperienced hands were wanted here?”
exclaimed the woman, measuring the young girl with her keen eyes, and
speaking in an impatient tone.
“That was what I said, Miss Walton. I desire you to teach her to wire
hats. Please give her some work right away.”
Mr. Coolidge spoke in a quiet, authoritative way, which there was no
gainsaying, and he had specified hats, because he knew they were much
easier to do than bonnets.
Without replying to him, Miss Walton told Brownie to follow her, and,
with a grateful smile and bow to her employer, she obeyed.
She was led to a seat in a quiet corner of the hall, where Miss Walton,
sitting down beside her, took up a hat, and without speaking once during
the operation, wired it with rapid fingers, Brownie watching intently
meanwhile.
“Can you do it?” she asked, curtly, when she had finished.
“I can try,” the young girl answered, with a little sigh, longing to ask
a few questions, yet not possessing the courage to do so of the
forbidding-looking personage at her side.
And now the wearisome, lonely task of earning her own living was begun.
Her heart ached with a sense of utter desolation as she sat there,
vainly trying to imitate Miss Walton’s example of wiring a hat.
She felt more utterly alone among these hundred girls than she had done
the night before in her quiet room at the hotel.
The wire hurt her delicate fingers, the needle, instead of going to its
appointed place, often slipped and pierced their rosy tips, and the
crimson drops would ooze forth, causing her to lay aside the work and
wrap the wounded members in her handkerchief until they ceased to bleed,
lest they should stain the hat.
One sad-looking girl on her left, had, without appearing to do so, been
watching her ineffectual efforts with a great deal of sympathy.
When at length, after running her needle half its length under her
finger-nail, Brownie laid down her work in despair, she turned kindly
toward her and said, with a smile:
“The work is new to you, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Brownie replied, looking up at the sweet tones, and much
comforted by them; “and I am afraid I shall never learn. I am so
awkward.”
“Oh, yes, you will. We were all so at the beginning.”
“Were you? Then I’ll try again,” she said, brightening instantly.
It was a real comfort to her to know that she was not quite such a goose
as she had thought herself, after all.
“Perhaps if I show you how to hold the hat, and just how to set the
needle, you would get on faster,” said the strange girl, laying down her
work, and holding out her hand for Brownie’s.
It was even so. She was very quick in her motions, and apt to learn, and
after a while she found she could wire a hat in ten minutes, when at
first it had taken her more than double that time.
But the confinement—the close, hot room, the noise of distant machinery,
and incessant chatter of the girls around her, began to wear upon her.
Her head throbbed and ached, as did also her arms and back, from their
accustomed work, and she grew so tired and nervous that it seemed to her
when night came as if her brain were turned.
Wearily and sorrowfully she wended her way back to the hotel where she
had stopped the night before, and threw herself upon her bed, too
thoroughly worn out to even heed the demands of hunger.
But her strong spirit conquered at last, and, rising, she bathed her
face and head, rearranged her toilet, put on her hat again, and went
down to the office to settle her bill at the hotel.
Notwithstanding her loneliness on the night of her arrival, after the
noise and din of the day, she would gladly have remained in that quiet
room, but she knew her purse would not permit of it; so, after paying
the clerk, she ordered a carriage and proceeded to the factory
boarding-house, which was to be her home for the present.