A lady and her husband

by Amber Reeves Blanco White

Aprons, it appeared, were a burning subject. Opinions differed as to who ought to supply the aprons, who ought to pay for them, who ought to pay for washing them, and how many aprons one ought to be called upon to wear in one week, supposing one were unlucky with splashing urns and dirty tables. Mrs. Black, apparently, was all for peace. She couldn't allow herself to be trampled on, but she didn't go looking for trouble. Some managers made the girls change if they got so much as a little water or milk down them that took the gloss off, but in her opinion, in Chelsea, there was no need except for real stains. And she must say she did not think that could be called unreasonable. For the other rules she was not responsible, they were the firm's regulations.

Mary was accustomed to regard difficulties like this from the employer's point of view, and she did not think the matter of great importance. Miss Percival passed on to the subject of fines for being late.

Here again it was admitted that some managers were tartars. In some tea-shops—not necessarily the Imperial's—the girls were treated really hard. But as long as the work did not suffer and the Inspector was pleased with her returns Mrs. Black did feel that five minutes sometimes in the morning might be passed over. She knew that she was giving herself away to Mrs. Heyham in saying so, but when a lady asked her a question no one should say that she didn't speak the truth. It occurred to her as an afterthought that there weren't any fines, of course, only part of the eleven shillings took the form of a bonus at the end of the weds if the girls had been punctual.

Mary thought that sounded very fair, Miss Percival nodded, and took it down. Among her other accomplishments was that of taking shorthand notes.

When all the questions had been answered, Mary, whose smile was becoming a little mechanical, rose to go. After all she had come to the tea-rooms in order to make life easier for the girls, not to ruffle the feelings of the managers. Miss Percival rose too, but instead of standing back while Mary said good-bye she turned to her employer with the suggestion that they should now see the washing-up.

Mary had forgotten the washing-up and she accepted the reminder as meekly as if it had been a rebuke. "Oh, yes, please, the washing-up!" she agreed.

Mrs. Black assented with a "Certainly if you would care to, Mrs. Heyham," that, together with the sweep of her skirt as she turned, demonstrated sufficiently that she took her orders from the lady and from the lady alone. She led them downstairs, past the kitchens, and Mary reproached herself for feeling glad that the kitchens were served by men and laid her under no obligation to enter them.

As they went the manager explained that it wasn't every company did things like the Imperial. Raised boards for the girls to stand on, and as much clean water as you liked, and a good big room with varnished walls. The manager, before she rose to that dignity, had washed up in places where you stood in a swamp and rats ran between your feet, and the water was more grease than water and as black as ink.

Mary shuddered, then she felt proud of James. They were downstairs now and the manager opened the door of the washing-up room. For a basement it was clean and light, but it was as damp as a bath-room after a hot bath. And it smelled, of stale food, of dirty water, of washing-powder, of well-worn clothes. Steam rose from the sinks, water dripped from the racks of clean china fixed to the walls, the floor was wet, and the paint on the woodwork glistened. There were six girls at work, two scouring saucepans and kitchen utensils, four handling the cherry-coloured china that looked so pretty against the white walls. Their faces were flushed and their hair hung limp over their foreheads.

"They come to this first," the manager was explaining, "and go upstairs afterwards."