CHAPTER III.
A QUESTION OF TASTE.
It was indeed a most lamentable truth that I was not as accomplished as most of the girls of my age. I could not paint or play the violin, I had no knowledge of the German language, I was ignorant of the agile art of skirt-dancing, and could not ride a horse—much less a bicycle. However, Emma found consolation in the fact that I “walked well, and carried myself with grace!”
“This was satisfactory,” I assured her with a laugh, “as I was never likely to have anything to carry me! As to walking, I was bound to be a foot-passenger all my days.”
I spoke French fluently, played the piano and guitar, was an excellent needle-woman; but these would scarcely justify me in seeking a place above that of a cheap governess or waiting-maid. The struggle for existence was now so fierce, the half-million surplus women were such keen competitors for bread, that life was nothing more nor less than one long hardly contested battle. I had grasped this fact, young as I was. I was a good accountant (whilst Emma could not do the simplest little sum in addition); and, as purse-bearer, many a weary half-hour I sat up at night, working out our little budget, and striving to make both ends meet.
Yes, I was ostensibly the purse-bearer, and, if left a free hand, I could manage to balance our income; but I was not independent. Emma was subject to wild lavish outbursts of her old Indian generosity; she would overwhelm me with unexpected gifts—expensive gifts. I never knew when one of these awful surprises was in store for me—and also the accompanying bill.
I had long refrained from admiring anything in the shop windows. Nevertheless, I was endowed with a white chiffon parasol, an opera cloak, three pairs of scarlet silk stockings, an exquisite silk and lace petticoat—I who so sadly wanted everyday gloves and boots. I wanted them subsequently for a considerable period. Remonstrance only brought tears, and at last I came to the conclusion that such outbursts were ungovernable impulses of Emma’s inborn, long-nurtured generosity; that the disease was incurable, and these occasional attacks afforded her relief from an ever-pressing, maddening desire to lavish money!