“Ah, you are one of Miss Lorimer’s sort, I can see, only you have got a stronger will and more purpose. But you can’t have a kinder heart; I will say that for her. But come along, my dear, and I will get you a nice early cup of tea, for you must want it after a long day of knocking about on the cars,” said Mrs. Nichols, who was a fairly shrewd reader of human nature, and had taken the measure of Nell’s stronger character at the first glance.
“Is this the office? Would you mind if I went in and had a look round first? I’m not very hungry, but I do want to get used to things, and the other deputy goes away to-night, I believe,” said Nell, who was in secret terribly afraid of her new responsibilities, and anxious to reassure herself on the subject of her own capability.
“Yes, that is the office, and Miss Simpson goes away by the eight-o’clock cars, and the office shuts down then for the night,” explained Mrs. Nichols.
“Would you mind, then, if I didn’t come in until after eight o’clock? I want to have as much time to get used to things as I can,” Nell said nervously.
“Do just as you like, my dear. I might as well step in and introduce you to Miss Simpson, then she will treat you properly. Let me see, what is your name—Miss Hammond?”
“No; Hamblyn, Eleanor Hamblyn,” explained Nell; whereat a puzzled look came over the face of Mrs. Nichols, and she treated Nell to a look of the keenest scrutiny, then marched into the dingy little telegraph office, and promptly introduced her to the dyspeptic-looking girl who had been acting as Gertrude’s deputy for so long.
Miss Simpson chose to be very affable, greeted Nell warmly, and declared herself utterly thankful that she was going to leave a dead-alive hole like Bratley.
“I never saw such a place; not a solitary individual to talk to, except the miners that go backwards and forwards to Camp’s Gulch and Roseneath, and they are a mixed lot, I can tell you,” Miss Simpson said, with a toss of her head, and an air of knowing a great deal on all sorts of subjects.
“But the work, is that very heavy?” asked Nell, who was not interested in this aspect of the drawbacks of Bratley. “I mean, does it come with a great rush at certain times of the day?”
“Oh no, there is never a rush of any sort; I wish there were, if only for the sake of keeping one in practice. I’m a twenty-five-word operator myself, and ought to have been promoted long ago, instead of which I have just had to hang round, doing deputy work while waiting for my chance. An eighteen-word operator would manage very well here; what do you scale?”