A lady and her husband

by Amber Reeves Blanco White

This visit was a social affair, a mere introduction and Miss Percival had not come. James, naturally, did not always care to have Miss Percival about. But next day investigation began in earnest. Mary chose, this time, a branch in Chelsea, and in the early afternoon she drove there with James's order, Miss Percival and Miss Percival's list of questions. It was a long list and Mary did not feel sure that all the questions were necessary. But she said nothing, for she respected experience and certified ability.

The manager of depot C.L. was a harassed looking lady who received them with an air almost of helplessness. Certainly let them come in, and she would do what she could to tell them anything they wanted to know. Perhaps—brightening—they would sit down and let her give them a cup of tea!

Mary praised the tea as she had already praised it, and as she would continue, steadily, to praise it during the next six months. Then she asked the waitress, a pretty girl of about eighteen, what her name was and whether she was happy.

The girl said that her name was Florrie Wilson. She did not seem to know whether she was happy or not. Pressed, she said yes, that she was a lucky one, she had been taken on straight in Coronation year, when there were the Colonial troops in Chelsea and people coming to see them, so she hadn't had to do her year's washing-up. And then Miss Sower getting ill and leaving she was kept on. She liked Chelsea, she thought it was gayer than Maida Hill where she lived.

She worked from eight in the morning to nine at night, with the intervals that the law prescribes, and she came and went very comfortably in the blue motor-bus that runs from the World's End. Florrie's mother hadn't at first quite approved of Florrie's going about so much alone in motor-buses, but then Florrie's mother was a real lady, only her health had failed because she was left a widow. And Florrie had come to work in the depot not because she needed work, but because she liked her independence and a bit of fun. She left home at seven sharp, and she got back about ten. She had Sundays off, and alternate Bank Holidays.

At this point Mrs. Black, the manager, intervened and sent Florrie off to a customer. The manager was of opinion, she said, that Florrie was a talker. She preferred, it was clear, that their information should come reliably from her rather than erratically from Miss Florrie Wilson.

Mary, left to herself, would not have submitted Mrs. Black to any very fierce ordeal. She was feeling pleased, pleased with Florrie for looking so pretty and speaking so nicely, and with herself for obtaining so much information in so pleasant a way. She was glad that she had resolved to make this inquiry, it was interesting, more than interesting, fascinating, and it would not be impossible to make a success of it. But there, at her elbow, was Miss Percival, and on the table before Miss Percival was the list. Mary was reminded that they were there to be thorough and scientific and with the smile of one who does her duty she intimated that Miss Percival's moment had come.

The inquisition began happily. Yes, it was perfectly true that the company only took girls who were not dependent on their wages for their living. Not that they gave bad wages, but you couldn't live as a young lady ought to live on eleven shillings a week, bonus instead of tips, making it up to twelve. The manager thought that was good money, she herself had begun—in another company—as kitchen help at seven shillings, and kitchen work was man's work, not girl's work at all.

Mary thought that sounded satisfactory. If the girls' parents supported them you could set that off against their board and lodging, and that left them with what any of her younger servants would have considered excellent wages. She was surprised when she saw the expression with which Mrs. Black received the next question. Mary had hardly noticed it on the list, but Mrs. Black seemed to think that it was deliberately and pointedly offensive. How did she find out whether the girls were being supported at home or not? She went round to take their characters, just as any lady would, as Mrs. Heyham would herself. And she could assure Mrs. Heyham's secretary that she was just as particular as any lady. How did she know by that that they were being supported?—Well, she used her common-sense. It might be friends of the girls having her on, of course, but she didn't think so. She couldn't be hard on them, of course, she wasn't that sort of woman. In fact, she was only a plain woman not accustomed to answering questions. All the same she knew, though she mightn't be able to explain exactly how, that there wasn't one girl in the place who wasn't living in a comfortable respectable home. She had worked for the Imperial fourteen years, and Mrs. Heyham might take it from her that she knew the difference between a young lady and a low common girl.

Miss Percival took this down without any change of expression and Mary said kindly that the girls looked very happy and contented. Mrs. Black propitiated, replied she did her best for them, and Miss Percival proceeded to the matter of aprons.