Part 34 (1/2)
”Sit down, my dear.”
”No, thank you.”
”Heard anything? Not yet, my dear. You must vait----”
”I think I've waited long enough, and if your promises amount to anything you'll get me an appearance at all events.”
”So I vould, my dear. I vould get you an extra turn at the Vas.h.i.+ngton, but it's very expensive, and you've got no money.”
”Then why did you take what I had if you can do nothing? Besides, I don't want anything but what my talents can earn. Give me a letter to a manager--for mercy's sake, do something for me!”
There was a shrug of the Ghetto as the man rose and said, ”Very vell, if it's like that, I'll give you a letter and velcome.”
He sat at a table and wrote a short note, sealed it carefully in an envelope which was backed with advertis.e.m.e.nts, then gave it to Glory, and said, ”Daddle doo. You'll not require to come again.”
Going downstairs she looked at the letter. It was addressed to an acting manager at a theatre in the farthest west of London. The pa.s.sages of the house and the pavements outside were now empty; it was nearly two o'clock, and snow was beginning to fall. She was feeling cold and a little hungry, but, making up her mind to deliver the letter at once, she hastened to the Temple station.
There was a _matinee_, so the acting manager was ”in front.” He took the letter abruptly, opened it with an air of irritation, glanced at it, glanced at Glory, looked at the letter again, and then said in a strangely gentle voice, ”Do you know what's in this, my girl?”
”No,” said Glory.
”Of course you don't--look,” and he gave her the letter to read. It ran:
”Dear ----: This wretched young ginger is worrying me for a shop. She isn't worth a ----. Get rid of her, and oblige Josephs.”
Glory flushed up to the forehead and bit her lip; then a little nervous laugh broke from her throat, and two great tears came rolling from her eyes. The acting manager took the letter out of her hands and tapped her kindly on the shoulder.
”Never mind, my child. Perhaps we'll disappoint him yet. Tell me all about it.”
She told him everything, for he had bowels of compa.s.sion. ”We can't put you on at present,” he said, ”but our saloon contractor wants a young lady to give out programmes, and if that will do to begin with----”
It was a crus.h.i.+ng disappointment, but she was helpless. The employment was menial, but it would take her out of the tobacco shop and put her into the atmosphere of the theatre, and bring fifteen s.h.i.+llings a week as well. She might begin on Monday if she could find her black dress, white ap.r.o.n, cap, and cuffs. The dress she had already, but the ap.r.o.n, cap, and cuffs would take the larger part of the money she had left.
By Sunday night she had swallowed her pride with one great gulp and was writing home to Aunt Anna:
”I'm as busy as Trap's wife these days; indeed, that G.o.ddess of industry is nothing to me now; but Christmas is coming, and I shall want to buy a present for grandfather (and perhaps for the aunties as well), so please send me a line in secret saying what he is wanting most. Snow! snow!
snow! The snow it snoweth every day.”
On the Monday night she presented herself at the theatre and was handed over to another girl to be instructed in her duties. The house was one of the best in London, and Glory found pleasure in seeing the audience a.s.semble. For the first half hour the gorgeous gowns, the beautiful faces, and the distinguished manners excited her and made her forget herself. Then little by little there came the pain of it all, and by the time the curtain had gone up her gorge was rising, and she crept out into the quiet corridor where her colleague was seated already under an electric lamp reading a penny number.
The girl was a little, tender black and white thing, looking like a dahlia. In a quarter of an hour Glory knew all about her. During the day she served in a shop in the Whitechapel Road. Her name was Agatha Jones--they called her Aggie. Her people lived in Bethnal Green, but Charlie always came to the theatre to take her home. Charlie was her young man.
In the intervals between the acts Glory a.s.sisted in the cloak-room, and there the great ladies began to be very amusing. After the tinkle of the electric bell announcing the second act she returned to the deserted corridor, and before her audience of one gave ridiculous imitations in dead silence of ladies using the puff and twiddling up their front hair.
”My! It's you as oughter be on the styge, my dear,” said Aggie.
”Do you think so?” said Glory.
”I'm going on myself soon. Charlie's getting me on the clubs.”
”The clubs?”