"And she saw that the girls who have to work for their bread are treated in such a way that slavery would be a better lot for most of them. For they have to work twelve hours in the day, and sometimes more; they sit in close, hot rooms, poisoned by gas; they get no change of position as the day goes on; they have no holiday, no respite, save on Sunday; they draw miserable wages, and they are indifferently fed. So that she thought one good thing Miss Messenger could do was to help those girls, and this was how our Association was founded."
"But we shall thank you, all the same," said Nelly.
"Then another thing happened. There was a young—gentleman," Angela went on, "staying at the East End too. He called himself a working-man, said he was the son of a sergeant in the army, but everybody knew he was a gentleman. This dressmaker made his acquaintance, and talked with him a great deal. He was full of ideas, and one day he proposed that we should have a Palace of Delight. It would cost a great deal of money; but they talked as if they had that sum, and more, at their disposal. They arranged it all; they provided for everything. When the scheme was fully drawn up, the dressmaker took it to Miss Messenger. O my dear girls! this is the Palace of Delight. It is built as they proposed; it is finished; it is our own; and here is its inventor."
She took Harry's hand. He stood beside her, gazing upon her impassioned face; but he was silent. "It looks cold and empty now, but when you see it on the opening day; when you come here night after night; when you get to feel the place to be a part, and the best part, of your life, then remember that what Miss Messenger did was nothing compared with what this—this young gentleman did. For he invented it."
"Now," she said, rising—they were all too much astonished to make any demonstration—"now let us examine the building. This hall is your great reception-room. You will use it for the ball nights, when you give your great dances; a thousand couples may dance here without crowding. On wet days it is to be the playground of the children. It will hold a couple of thousand, without jostling against each other. There is the gallery for the music, as soon as you have got any."
She led the way to a door on the right.
"This," she said, "is your theatre."
It was like a Roman theatre, being built in the form of a semicircle, tier above tier, having no distinction in places, save that some were nearer the stage and some further off.
"Here," she said, "you will act. Do not think that players will be found for you. If you want a theatre you must find your own actors. If you want an orchestra you must find your own for your theatre, because in this place everything will be done by yourselves."