Linda Harris was the girl who had sickened, and whose place Jeannette now filled.
Perhaps Miss Bixby was right, Jeannette would say to herself, riding home after six and sometimes after seven o’clock on the lurching train, tired to the point where her muscles ached and her sight was blurred. But there was something in her that rose vigorously to this battle of work, that made her reach down and ever deeper down inside herself for new strength and new capacity.
§ 10
Wearily, her hand dragging on the stair rail, she would pull herself step by step up the long flights to the top floor. Tired though she might be, her mind would still be buzzing with the events of the day: Mr. Cavendish’s letter to Senator Slocum,—had she remembered the enclosures? Mr. Kipps had been short with her, or so he had seemed; perhaps he had been only vexed at the end of a long day of worry. Mr. Corey’s smile at a comment she had ventured was consoling. Then there was that friction between Miss Reubens and Mrs. Inness; they had had some sharp words; she wondered which one of them eventually would triumph. Mrs. Inness, of course.... And little Miss Maria Lopez had confided to her in the wash-room she was going to be married!
“Hello, dearie! ... Home again?” Jeannette’s mother would call to her cheerfully as she pushed open the door. Alice would turn her head with a “’Lo, Sis”; she would kiss them dutifully, perfunctorily. The kitchen would be hot and steamy; the smell of food would make her feel giddy, perhaps faint. She would be ravenously hungry. She would go to her dark little bedroom, light the gas, remove her hat, blouse, and skirt and stretch herself gratefully on her bed.... Would Mrs. Inness go to Mr. Corey about her difference with Miss Reubens? ... Miss Holland had had a conference with Mr. Kipps all afternoon; what could it be about? ... Would Bertram be discharged for losing that manuscript? ... Mr. Van Alstyne had certainly been unnecessarily curt; she cordially disliked him.... And Mr. Smith had most assuredly not given her Mr. Corey’s message; why, she remembered distinctly....
“Dinner, dearie.” She would drag herself to her feet, rub her face briskly with a wet wash-rag, and in her wrapper join her mother and sister at table.
“Well, tell us how everything went to-day,” Mrs. Sturgis would say, busy with plates and serving spoon.
“Oh,—’bout the same as usual,” Jeannette would sigh. “Bertram, the office boy, lost a manuscript to-day. It was terribly important. We were awfully busy upstairs, and Mrs. Inness sent the book out to be typed, and he left the package somewheres,—on the street car, he thinks. Mr. Kipps will probably fire him; he deserves it; he’s awfully fresh.”
“You don’t say,” Mrs. Sturgis would murmur abstractedly. “Drink your tea, dearie, before it gets cold.”
Jeannette dutifully sipping the hot brew would consider how to tell them of the trouble between Mrs. Inness and Miss Reubens.