A broadside of gigantic phonographs drowned all conversation in the
moving way and roared "_hats_" at the passer-by, while far down the
street and up, other batteries counselled the public to "walk down for
Suzannah," and queried, "Why _don't_ you buy the girl a hat?"
For the benefit of those who chanced to be deaf--and deafness was not
uncommon in the London of that age, inscriptions of all sizes were
thrown from the roof above upon the moving platforms themselves, and on
one's hand or on the bald head of the man before one, or on a lady's
shoulders, or in a sudden jet of flame before one's feet, the moving
finger wrote in unanticipated letters of fire "_'ets r chip t'de_," or
simply "_'ets_." And spite of all these efforts so high was the pitch at
which the city lived, so trained became one's eyes and ears to ignore
all sorts of advertisement, that many a citizen had passed that place
thousands of times and was still unaware of the existence of the
Suzannah Hat Syndicate.
To enter the building one descended the staircase in the middle way and
walked through a public passage in which pretty girls promenaded, girls
who were willing to wear a ticketed hat for a small fee. The entrance
chamber was a large hall in which wax heads fashionably adorned rotated
gracefully upon pedestals, and from this one passed through a cash
office to an interminable series of little rooms, each room with its
salesman, its three or four hats and pins, its mirrors, its
kinematographs, telephones and hat slides in communication with the
central depot, its comfortable lounge and tempting refreshments. A
salesman in such an apartment did Denton now become. It was his business
to attend to any of the incessant stream of ladies who chose to stop
with him, to behave as winningly as possible, to offer refreshment, to
converse on any topic the possible customer chose, and to guide the
conversation dexterously but not insistently towards hats. He was to
suggest trying on various types of hat and to show by his manner and
bearing, but without any coarse flattery, the enhanced impression made
by the hats he wished to sell. He had several mirrors, adapted by
various subtleties of curvature and tint to different types of face and
complexion, and much depended on the proper use of these.
Denton flung himself at these curious and not very congenial duties with
a good will and energy that would have amazed him a year before; but all
to no purpose. The Senior Manageress, who had selected him for
appointment and conferred various small marks of favour upon him,
suddenly changed in her manner, declared for no assignable cause that he
was stupid, and dismissed him at the end of six weeks of salesmanship.
So Denton had to resume his ineffectual search for employment.
This second search did not last very long. Their money was at the ebb.
To eke it out a little longer they resolved to part with their darling
Dings, and took that small person to one of the public _creches_ that
abounded in the city. That was the common use of the time. The
industrial emancipation of women, the correlated disorganisation of the
secluded "home," had rendered _creches_ a necessity for all but very
rich and exceptionally-minded people. Therein children encountered
hygienic and educational advantages impossible without such
organisation. _Creches_ were of all classes and types of luxury, down to
those of the Labour Company, where children were taken on credit, to be
redeemed in labour as they grew up.
But both Denton and Elizabeth being, as I have explained, strange
old-fashioned young people, full of nineteenth-century ideas, hated
these convenient _creches_ exceedingly and at last took their little
daughter to one with extreme reluctance. They were received by a
motherly person in a uniform who was very brisk and prompt in her manner
until Elizabeth wept at the mention of parting from her child. The
motherly person, after a brief astonishment at this unusual emotion,
changed suddenly into a creature of hope and comfort, and so won
Elizabeth's gratitude for life. They were conducted into a vast room
presided over by several nurses and with hundreds of two-year-old girls
grouped about the toy-covered floor. This was the Two-year-old Room.
Two nurses came forward, and Elizabeth watched their bearing towards
Dings with jealous eyes. They were kind--it was clear they felt kind,
and yet ...
Presently it was time to go. By that time Dings was happily established
in a corner, sitting on the floor with her arms filled, and herself,
indeed, for the most part hidden by an unaccustomed wealth of toys. She
seemed careless of all human relationships as her parents receded.
They were forbidden to upset her by saying good-bye.
At the door Elizabeth glanced back for the last time, and behold! Dings
had dropped her new wealth and was standing with a dubious face.
Suddenly Elizabeth gasped, and the motherly nurse pushed her forward and
closed the door.
"You can come again soon, dear," she said, with unexpected tenderness in
her eyes. For a moment Elizabeth stared at her with a blank face. "You
can come again soon," repeated the nurse. Then with a swift transition
Elizabeth was weeping in the nurse's arms. So it was that Denton's heart
was won also.
And three weeks after our young people were absolutely penniless, and
only one way lay open. They must go to the Labour Company. So soon as
the rent was a week overdue their few remaining possessions were seized,
and with scant courtesy they were shown the way out of the hotel.
Elizabeth walked along the passage towards the staircase that ascended
to the motionless middle way, too dulled by misery to think. Denton
stopped behind to finish a stinging and unsatisfactory argument with the
hotel porter, and then came hurrying after her, flushed and hot. He
slackened his pace as he overtook her, and together they ascended to the
middle way in silence. There they found two seats vacant and sat down.
"We need not go there--_yet_?" said Elizabeth.
"No--not till we are hungry," said Denton.
They said no more.
Elizabeth's eyes sought a resting-place and found none. To the right
roared the eastward ways, to the left the ways in the opposite
direction, swarming with people. Backwards and forwards along a cable
overhead rushed a string of gesticulating men, dressed like clowns, each
marked on back and chest with one gigantic letter, so that altogether
they spelt out:
"PURKINJE'S DIGESTIVE PILLS."
An anaemic little woman in horrible coarse blue canvas pointed a little
girl to one of this string of hurrying advertisements.
"Look!" said the anaemic woman: "there's yer father."
"Which?" said the little girl.
"'Im wiv his nose coloured red," said the anaemic woman.
The little girl began to cry, and Elizabeth could have cried too.
"Ain't 'e kickin' 'is legs!--_just!_" said the anaemic woman in blue,
trying to make things bright again. "Looky--_now!_"
On the _facade_ to the right a huge intensely bright disc of weird
colour span incessantly, and letters of fire that came and went spelt
out--
"DOES THIS MAKE YOU GIDDY?"