<h2><SPAN name="VI" id="VI" />VI</h2>
<p>It was half past eleven when she stepped
into the first agency on her list, and business
was in full tide.</p>
<p>While she stood shrinking by the door the
eyes of a dozen women fastened upon her,
each with keen scrutiny. The sensitive color
stole into her delicate cheeks. As the
proprietress of the office began to question
her, she felt her courage failing.</p>
<p>"You wish a position?" The woman had
a nose like a hawk, and eyes that held no
sympathy. "What do you want? General
housework?"</p>
<p>"I should like a position as waitress." Her
voice was low and sounded frightened to herself.</p>
<p>The hawk nose went up contemptuously.</p>
<p>"Better take general housework. There
are too many waitresses already."</p>
<p>"I understand the work of a waitress, but
I never have done general housework," she
answered with the voice of a gentlewoman,
which somehow angered the hawk, who had
trained herself to get the advantage over
people and keep it or else know the reason
why.</p>
<p>"Very well, do as you please, of course,
but you bite your own nose off. Let me
see your references."</p>
<p>The girl was ready for this.</p>
<p>"I am sorry, but I cannot give you any.
I have lived only in one home, where I had
entire charge of the table and dining-room,
and that home was broken up when the people
went abroad three years ago. I could show
you letters written by the mistress of that
home if I had my trunk here, but it is in
another city, and I do not know when I shall
be able to send for it."</p>
<p>"No references!" screamed the hawk, then
raising her voice, although it was utterly unnecessary:
"Ladies, here is a girl who has
no references. Do any of you want to venture?"
The contemptuous laugh that followed
had the effect of a warning to every
woman in the room. "And this girl scorns
general housework, and presumes to dictate
for a place as waitress," went on the hawk.</p>
<p>"I want a waitress badly," said a troubled
woman in a subdued whisper, "but I really
wouldn't dare take a girl without references.
She might be a thief, you know, and then—really,
she doesn't look as if she was used to
houses like mine. I must have a neat, stylish-looking
girl. No self-respecting waitress
nowadays would go out in the street dressed
like that."</p>
<p>All the eyes in the room seemed boring
through the poor girl as she stood trembling,
humiliated, her cheeks burning, while horrified
tears demanded to be let up into her eyes.
She held her dainty head proudly, and turned
away with dignity.</p>
<p>"However, if you care to try," called out
the hawk, "you can register at the desk and
leave two dollars, and if in the meantime you
can think of anybody who'll give us a reference,
we'll look it up. But we never guarantee
girls without references."</p>
<p>The tears were too near the surface now
for her even to acknowledge this information
flung at her in an unpleasant voice. She went
out of the office, and immediately,—surreptitiously,—two
women hurried after her.</p>
<p>One was flabby, large, and overdressed, with
a pasty complexion and eyes like a fish, in
which was a lack of all moral sense. She
hurried after the girl and took her by the
shoulder just as she reached the top of the
stairs that led down into the street.</p>
<p>The other was a small, timid woman, with
anxiety and indecision written all over her,
and a last year's street suit with the sleeves
remodelled. When she saw who had stopped
the girl, she lingered behind in the hall and
pretended there was something wrong with
the braid on her skirt. While she lingered
she listened.</p>
<p>"Wait a minute, Miss," said the flashy
woman. "You needn't feel bad about having
references. Everybody isn't so particular.
You come with me, and I'll put you in the
way of earning more than you can ever get
as a waitress. You weren't cut out for work,
any way, with that face and voice. I've been
watching you. You were meant for a lady.
You need to be dressed up, and you'll be a
real pretty girl——"</p>
<p>As she talked, she had come nearer, and
now she leaned over and whispered so that
the timid woman, who was beginning dimly
to perceive what manner of creature this other
woman was, could not hear.</p>
<p>But the girl stepped back with sudden energy
and flashing eyes, shaking off the be-ringed
hand that had grasped her shoulder.</p>
<p>"Don't you dare to speak to me!" she
said in a loud, clear voice. "Don't you dare
to touch me! You are a wicked woman! If
you touch me again, I will go in there and
tell all those women how you have insulted
me!"</p>
<p>"Oh, well, if you're a saint, starve!" hissed
the woman.</p>
<p>"I should rather starve ten thousand times
than take help from you," said the girl, and
her clear, horrified eyes seemed to burn into
the woman's evil face. She turned and slid
away, like the wily old serpent that she was.</p>
<p>Down the stairs like lightning sped the
girl, her head up in pride and horror, her eyes
still flashing. And down the stairs after her
sped the little, anxious woman, panting and
breathless, determined to keep her in sight
till she could decide whether it was safe to
take a girl without a character—yet who had
just shown a bit of her character unaware.</p>
<p>Two blocks from the employment office the
girl paused, to realize that she was walking
blindly, without any destination. She was
trembling so with terror that she was not sure
whether she had the courage to enter another
office, and a long vista of undreamed-of fears
arose in her imagination.</p>
<p>The little woman paused, too, eying the
girl cautiously, then began in an eager voice:</p>
<p>"I've been following you."</p>
<p>The girl started nervously, a cold chill of
fear coming over her. Was this a woman
detective?</p>
<p>"I heard what that awful woman said to
you, and I saw how you acted. You must
be a good girl, or you wouldn't have talked
to her that way. I suppose I'm doing a
dangerous thing, but I can't help it. I believe
you're all right, and I'm going to try
you, if you'll take general housework. I
need somebody right away, for I'm going to
have a dinner party to-morrow night, and my
girl left me this morning."</p>
<p>The kind tone in the midst of her troubles
brought tears to the girl's eyes.</p>
<p>"Oh, thank you!" she said as she brushed
the tears away. "I'm a stranger here, and
I have never before been among strangers
this way. I'd like to come and work for
you, but I couldn't do general housework,
I'm sure. I never did it, and I wouldn't know
how."</p>
<p>"Can't you cook a little? I could teach
you my ways."</p>
<p>"I don't know the least thing about cooking.
I never cooked a thing in my life."</p>
<p>"What a pity! What was your mother
thinking about? Every girl ought to be
brought up to know a little about cooking,
even if she does have some other employment."</p>
<p>"My mother has been dead a good many
years." The tears brimmed over now, but
the girl tried to smile. "I could help
you with your dinner party," she went on.
"That is, I know all about setting the
tables and arranging the flowers and favors.
I could paint the place-cards, too—I've done
it many a time. And I could wait on the
table. But I couldn't cook even an oyster."</p>
<p>"Oh, place-cards!" said the little woman,
her eyes brightening. She caught at the word
as though she had descried a new star in the
firmament. "I wish I could have them. They
cost so much to buy. I might have my washerwoman
come and help with the cooking. She
cooks pretty well, and I could help her beforehand,
but she couldn't wait on table, to save
her life. I wonder if you know much about
menus. Could you help me fix out the courses
and say what you think I ought to have, or
don't you know about that? You see, I have
this very particular company coming, and I
want to have things nice. I don't know them
very well. My husband has business relations
with them and wants them invited, and of all
times for Betty to leave this was the worst!"
She had unconsciously fallen into a tone of
equality with the strange girl.</p>
<p>"I should like to help you," said the girl,
"but I must find somewhere to stay before
night, and if I find a place I must take it. I
just came to the city this morning, and have
nowhere to stay overnight."</p>
<p>The troubled look flitted across the woman's
face for a moment, but her desire got the
better of her.</p>
<p>"I suppose my husband would think I was
crazy to do it," she said aloud, "but I just
can't help trusting you. Suppose you come
and stay with me to-day and to-morrow, and
help me out with this dinner party, and you
can stay overnight at my house and sleep
in the cook's room. If I like your work, I'll
give you a recommendation as waitress. You
can't get a good place anywhere without it,
not from the offices, I'm sure. A recommendation
ought to be worth a couple of days' work
to you. I'd pay you something besides, but
I really can't afford it, for the washerwoman
charges a dollar and a half a day when she
goes out to cook; but if you get your board
and lodging and a reference, that ought to
pay you."</p>
<p>"You are very kind," said the girl. "I
shall be glad to do that."</p>
<p>"When will you come? Can you go with
me now, or have you got to go after your
things?"</p>
<p>"I haven't any things but these," she said
simply, "and perhaps you will not think I
am fine enough for your dinner party. I have
a little money. I could buy a white apron.
My trunk is a good many miles away, and I
was in desperate straits and had to leave it."</p>
<p>"H'm! A stepmother, probably," thought
the kindly little woman. "Poor child! She
doesn't look as if she was used to roughing
it. If I could only hold on to her and train her,
she might be a treasure, but there's no telling
what John will say. I won't tell him anything
about her, if I can help it, till the dinner is
over."</p>
<p>Aloud she said: "Oh, that won't be necessary.
I've got a white apron I'll lend you—perhaps
I'll give it to you if you do your
work well. Then we can fix up some kind
of a waitress's cap out of a lace-edged handkerchief,
and you'll look fine. I'd rather do
that and have you come right along home
with me, for everything is at sixes at sevens.
Betty went off without washing the breakfast
dishes. You can wash dishes, any way."</p>
<p>"Why, I can try," laughed the girl, the
ridiculousness of her present situation suddenly
getting the better of other emotions.</p>
<p>And so they got into a car and were
whirled away into a pretty suburb. The
woman, whose name was Mrs. Hart, lived in
a common little house filled with imitation
oriental rugs and cheap furniture.</p>
<p>The two went to work at once, bringing
order out of the confusion that reigned in
the tiny kitchen. In the afternoon the would-be
waitress sat down with a box of water-colors
to paint dinner-cards, and as her skilful
brush brought into being dainty landscapes,
lovely flowers, and little brown birds,
she pondered the strangeness of her lot.</p>
<p>The table the next night was laid with
exquisite care, the scant supply of flowers
having been used to best advantage, and everything
showing the touch of a skilled hand.
The long hours that Mrs. Hart had spent
puckering her brow over the household department
of fashion magazines helped her to
recognize the fact that in her new maid she
had what she was pleased to call "the real
thing."</p>
<p>She sighed regretfully when the guest of
honor, Mrs. Rhinehart, spoke of the deftness
and pleasant appearance of her hostess's
waitress.</p>
<p>"Yes," Mrs. Hart said, swelling with pride,
"she is a treasure. I only wish I could keep
her."</p>
<p>"She's going to get married, I suppose.
They all do when they're good," sympathized
the guest.</p>
<p>"No, but she simply won't do cooking, and
I really haven't work enough for two servants
in this little house."</p>
<p>The guest sat up and took notice.</p>
<p>"You don't mean to tell me that you are
letting a girl like that slip through your
fingers? I wish I had known about her. I
have spent three days in intelligence offices.
Is there any chance for me, do you think?"</p>
<p>Then did the little woman prove that she
should have had an <i>e</i> in her name, for she
burst into a most voluble account of the virtues
of her new maid, until the other woman
was ready to hire her on the spot. The result
of it all was that "Mary" was summoned
to an interview with Mrs. Rhinehart
in the dining-room, and engaged at four dollars
a week, with every other Sunday afternoon
and every other Thursday out, and her
uniforms furnished.</p>
<p>The next morning Mr. Hart gave her a
dollar-bill and told her that he appreciated
the help she had given them, and wanted to
pay her something for it.</p>
<p>She thanked him graciously and took the
money with a kind of awe. Her first earnings!
It seemed so strange to think that she had
really earned some money, she who had always
had all she wanted without lifting a finger.</p>
<p>She went to a store and bought a hair-brush
and a few little things that she felt were
necessities, with a fifty-cent straw telescope
in which to put them. Thus, with her modest
baggage, she entered the home of Mrs.
Rhinehart, and ascended to a tiny room on
the fourth floor, in which were a cot and
a washstand, a cracked mirror, one chair, and
one window. Mrs. Rhinehart had planned
that the waitress should room with the cook,
but the girl had insisted that she must have
a room alone, no matter how small, and they
had compromised on this unused, ill-furnished
spot.</p>
<p>As she took off the felt hat, she wondered
what its owner would think if he could see
her now, and she brushed a fleck of dust
gently from the felt, as if in apology for its
humble surroundings. Then she smoothed her
hair, put on the apron Mrs. Hart had given
her, and descended to her new duties as maid
in a fashionable home.</p>
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