“But even girls who don’t need a livelihood may find it hard to occupy themselves,” Lucy mildly suggested. “It seems cruel to deny work to any human being.”
“Perhaps so, my love, but it’s very mean of them to want to be provided for as women and working women at one and the same time. Let them be one or the other, whichever they choose; they’ve a right to freedom of choice, but they ought not to be both. Why, to be so is to be the very worst form of—what is it Mr. Bray calls the men whom labourers don’t like?—black caps? No, blacklegs—yes, the very worst form of blackleg. It’s not ladylike. But here am I, rattling away about all sorts of women’s social questions (which are but branches from the kitchen after all), and forgetting the kitchen itself. Do you know, my dear, the minute you said that this hussy is leaving, it occurred to me that I know somebody who can come in her place, who will probably suit you to a T, and who will regard me as a special providence if I get her the situation.”
“Oh, Mrs. Bray,” cried Lucy, “you make my heart leap with delight. This is so unexpected. Surely it is too good to be true!”
(To be continued.)
[THREE GIRL-CHUMS, AND THEIR LIFE IN LONDON ROOMS.]
By FLORENCE SOPHIE DAVSON.
CHAPTER VII.
VISITORS FOR MARION.
The weather was now getting much warmer, the days were long and sunny, and the evenings light until late; so the girls began to make certain changes in their housekeeping arrangements. To begin with, the choral society which they had been attending on Wednesday evenings all the winter ceased in April, so they had late dinner every evening except Saturday and Sunday. There was some talk of their joining a tennis club; but both Jane and Ada were generally too tired to play after their day’s work, and, as the prudent Marion pointed out, if they joined a club it would mean that they would rush off to play directly they came home for as long as it was light, and get no solid food until past eight o’clock, when it would be too late to see about dinner. Jane thought that this would not matter in the very least, as it would soon be getting too hot for anyone to think of eating; but she was over-ruled by her two elders, who insisted that, as none of them got a solid meal in the middle of the day, it would be a fatal thing if the one big meal were postponed altogether. So she was obliged to give in and be content with what tennis she could get at friends’ houses on Saturday afternoons. This was not very much, and she had a good long walk to get it; but she thought it was better than nothing.