“Well, you can take it right back,” said Madame sharply. “Tell the woman the young lady knows all about it. Tell her it will explain itself when the young lady opens it. There’s a card inside. And Thomas,” hurrying after him as he slid away to the door, and speaking in a lower voice, “Thomas, you leave it there no matter what she says. It’s all paid for and I’m not going to be bothered this way. You’re to leave it no matter what she says, you understand?”
“Sure, Madame, I understand. I’ll leave it.”
The neat little delivery car with its one word “Grevet” in silver script on a mulberry background slid away on its well-oiled mechanism, and the service persons in their black satin straight frocks turned their black satin bobbed heads and looked meaningfully at one another with glances that said eagerly:
“I told you so. That girl was different!” and Madame looked thoughtfully out of her side window into the blank brick wall of the next building and wondered how this was going to turn out. She did not want to have those expensive costumes returned, and she could not afford to anger young Van Rensselaer; he was too good a customer. He had expected her to carry out his instructions. It might be that she would have to go herself to explain the matter. Any one could see that girl was too unsophisticated to understand. Her mother would probably be worse. She would have notions. Madame had had a mother once herself, so long ago she had forgotten many of her precepts, but she could understand. Madame was clever. This was going to be a case requiring clever action. But Madame was counting much upon Thomas. Thomas too could be clever on occasion. That was why he wore the silver buttons on the mulberry uniform and earned a good salary. Thomas knew that his silver buttons depended on his getting things across when Madame spoke to him as she had just done, and Madame believed Thomas would get this across.
In the early dusk of the evening when it came closing time at Grevet’s the service women in chic wraps and small close hats flocked stylishly forth into the city and took their various ways home. The thoughtful one and the outspoken one wended their way together out toward the avenue and up toward obscure streets tucked in between finer ones, walking to save carfare, for even for those who served at Grevet’s there were circumstances in which it was wise in good weather to save carfare.
Their way led past the houses of wealth, a trifle longer perhaps, but pleasanter, with a touch of something in the air which their limited lives had missed, but which they liked to be near and enjoy if only in the passing. Their days at Grevet’s had fostered this love of the beautiful and real, perhaps, that made a glimpse into the windows of the great a pleasant thing; the drifting of a rare lace curtain, the sight of masses of flowers within, the glow of a handsome lamp, and the mellow shadows of a costly room, the sound of fine machinery as the limousines passed almost noiselessly, the quiet perfect service of the butler at the door, the well-groomed women who got out of the cars and went in, delicately shod, to eat dinners that others had prepared, with no thought or worry about expense. These were more congenial surroundings to walk amid, even if it took one a block or two further out of the way, than a crowded street full of common rushing people, jostling and worried like themselves, and the air full of the sordid things of life.
They were talking about the events of the day, as people will, the happenings of their little world, the only points of contact they had in common out of their separate lives.
“How much have you sold today, Mrs. Hanley?” questioned the girl eagerly. “I had the biggest sale this month yet.” The sad-eyed one smiled pleasantly.
“Oh, I had a pretty good day, Florence. This is always a good time of year you know.”
“Yes, I know. Everybody getting new things.” She sighed, with a fierce longing that she too might have plenty of money to get new things. A sigh like that was easily translatable by her companion. For some reason Mrs. Hanley shrank tonight from the usual wail that the girl would presently bring forth about the unfairness of the division of wealth in the world, perhaps because she, too, was wondering how to make both ends meet and get the new things that were necessary. She roused herself to change the subject. They were passing the Van Rensselaer mansion now, well known to both of them. She snatched at the first subject that presented itself.