Norton, Andre - Novel 39 (12 page)

 
          
 
"This lady is to meet with Mrs. Kirby.
Will you go with her and show the way?"

 
          
 
Then she spoke in a lower voice. "Do not
be dismayed at what you see. Poor Mattie was very badly injured when she came
to us and she was with Mrs. Kirby several months recovering from her wounds.
She is a little simple because of what has been done to her but teachable in
some ways, and she is very timid except when she knows you well. We try to aid
her by giving her work here and trusting her in small errands. Come,
Mattie!" She raised her voice again to call to the girl, who was
lingering, her head down. One of her neighbors at the table reached out and
patted her arm, then grasped it firmly and turned the girl toward the head of
the table, which she approached as one who dreaded what she would face there.

 
          
 
Even having been warned, Hester was barely
able to suppress a gasp as she saw the scarred face beneath the edging of the
cap that had been pulled forward as far as possible in a vain attempt to hide
the battered features.

 
          
 
Without a word Mattie pulled a shawl from one
of those hanging on pegs driven into the wall and stood waiting by the door,
her face averted, for Hester to join her. Uncomfortable, fearing that maybe her
horror had shown, Hester forced a smile as they went out together.

 
          
 
"It is very kind of you, Mattie, to take
me to Mrs. Kirby's
— "

 
          
 
The capped head did not turn and there was
only a very faint murmur from the girl. But Hester refused to be so rebuffed.

 
          
 
"I have heard many good things of Mrs.
Kirby ..." Perhaps she could even add something to her knowledge by
learning from one of the girls who had benefited from this help earlier.

 
          
 
This time there was an understandable answer.
"She is a saint—one o' them angels as them back there"—she twitched
her shoulder to indicate the building from which they had come—"says as
there is. Nursed me her ownself so she did, miss. Not many as would'a even
looked at me,
so
nasty-lookin' as I were. I'd do
anythin' for her—so I would." She even raised her bowed head to look Hester
straight in the face.

 
          
 
"Me—I'se a proper one, now ain't I?
Carved me up good, Jed
did,
jus' as 'e swore 'e would
if I didn't go wi' that there devil. But I couldna, 'deed I couldna, miss. 'E
were
bad— we's all bad in someway or t'other. But 'e was
black bad an' I couldna let 'im take me. 'Eard tell as 'ow someone did for 'im
good not long ago—that was a proper end, so it was!" Her voice was raised
as she spoke and she ended with a flare of anger.

 
          
 
Mattie turned her head sharply away and there
was something now that kept Hester from trying to get her to talk further. As
it happened their walk was not a long one. But despite the weak sun, which
reached these streets as if it grudged the need for touching into such shadows,
the dilapidated buildings and the lounging men, the wan-faced children who
played listlessly about gutters full of foulness, were daunting, and Hester had
to fight the tendrils of fear that reached for her. If Mr. Prothore could see
her . . . Hester's chin went up. She identified him with the investigator
Captain Ellison had mentioned; both were on the side of that aloof authority
able to brutalize people below their own lofty stations.

 
          
 
When they reached the drab street that she was
familiar with from the other evening, the house to which Mattie led the way
stood out sharply from its neighbors. The roof showed fresh patching, the
windows were clean, and behind them hung fresh curtains. The sills and the door
had been painted not too long ago and the scrap of yard before it, though mainly
beaten earth, also gave rootage to some small scrubs, which dared to display
green, if soot-spotted, leaves.

 
          
 
Even the knocker on the door must have been
freshly polished, for the sunlight glinted on it brightly as Hester raised a
hand to use it. But she needed not complete that gesture for the door was
opened quickly and a girl in a trim dress of blue, warm chestnut hair braided
and coiled around her head, stood smiling.

 
          
 
"Come in, miss— Oh, Mattie—you, too.
We'se got bun tea in the kitchen and there's aplenty. Come on with you!"

 
          
 
She stepped aside into the hall and motioned
to Hester. "Mrs. Kirby, she's in the parlor, miss. Jus' step this way,
please."

 
          
 
The girl could not have been much older than
Major Ames's daughter but she had an assurance that was in no way impertinent,
merely that of one who knew her duties and found satisfaction in them. Then the
parlor door closed between them and Hester found herself facing the mistress of
the establishment.

 
          
 
Mrs. Kirby, staid as her dress and unusual as
her chosen work, was unmistakably a lady. Her parlor could not be compared with
the splendid setting that Lady Ames used to her advantage, but there was no
doubt they were of the same class, as different otherwise as they might be.

 
          
 
She was slightly taller than Hester and her
figure was matronly. Though she made no pretense of anything approaching the
realm of fashionable dress, her black basque was relieved with a narrow ruffled
collar of fine old lace fastened by a jet brooch. She wore a small apron over
her skirt, the drapery of which hung in no-nonsense folds, having nothing but a
very narrow niching of the same material as trimming. But it was not the apron
of one who had just put aside some demanding
task,
rather it too was of fine muslin edged with lace.

 
          
 
Her hair was dark and dressed very simply,
though on her temples and across her forehead small wisps suggested that it was
naturally curly. Her face was plump and she was smiling, dark eyes regarding
Hester with what the girl recognized was a shrewd and weighing gaze.

 
          
 
Now she held out her hand and said: "My
dear, Emily sent me a note to tell me about you—but I feared we would not see
you after the terrible events of last night! That you have come assures me you
are indeed interested in what we strive to do. And, my dear
Miss Lane
, any help is so welcome. Come now, sit here
with me and then . . . you will ask questions, will you not? I know so little
of what your task involves. Be assured that I shall answer them to the very
best of my ability."

 
          
 
Hester found herself in a plumply upholstered
chair before the fire, her hostess half facing her. There was a knock at the
door and the girl who had met her at the door entered with a tray. She walked
very carefully, and Hester noted the tip of her small tongue just showed on her
lower lip as if she were engaged in some task she was not quite sure of but
wished to accomplish with success.

 
          
 
As she placed her burden on the small table by
Mrs. Kirby's side Hester was certain she heard a sigh of relief. However, her
hostess was inspecting the tray with what seemed an oddly critical glance and
then she nodded.

 
          
 
"Excellent, Sallie—very well done."

 
          
 
Sallie beamed and bobbed a small curtsy and
then left the room. As the door closed firmly behind her Mrs. Kirby spoke.

 
          
 
"Sallie will be one of our great
successes. She is very bright and quick to learn and has amply repaid all the
instructions we provide. There will be no trouble in finding her a good place
in a month or two. In fact, I have one already in mind. But you would not
believe,
Miss Lane
, that this could be the same girl who was brought to me two months ago.
She had been badly beaten"—Mrs. Kirby's eyes flashed—"and they had given
her gin until she was sodden drunk. It is unbelievable how some of these
wretches use their own children!"

 
          
 
"Captain Ellison told me about Mattie
..." Hester ventured.

 
          
 
A shadow fell across Mrs. Kirby's face.
"Yes, yes, that poor child. She has been so abused that she is hardly more
than half-witted. I could find no place for her. But she is fairly good at
plain sewing and she feels safe in the company of Captain Ellison and those who
run that small industry. She has food, and clothing, a safe place to stay, and
work for her hands. In that much we have changed her lot for the better. But
her case was one of the worst I have seen . . . Tea,
Miss Lane
?"

 
          
 
Her hands had been busy with pot and cup and
saucer—it was perhaps not the fine china one would find under Lady Ames's roof
but it had a flower-sprigged daintiness that would not be out of place in any
respectable household. Mrs. Kirby must have been very acute to catch the glance
Hester gave to the tray, the plate of nicely sliced bread and butter, the
offering of small cakes.

 
          
 
"This is all part of the training for our
girls," she explained. "They must get used to things of a standard
different from any they have seen or thought existed. You see how Sallie has
set up the tray? She did it on her own with no supervision this time. And it
has been very well done. Josie, who is training for a kitchen maid, cut this
bread and baked the cakes this morning. She too is going to be one of our
successes, though she is not as bright and quick as Sallie. And there is
Violet, who looks after the younger girls—she will turn out to be an excellent
nursery maid. We can well be proud of them."

 
          
 
"And they are all . . . from the
streets?" Hester found it hard to connect Mrs. Kirby's girls with those
she had seen outside.

 
          
 
"Every one of them!
Josie now—" Mrs. Kirby launched into a story that to Hester sounded
impossible, as if she were spinning some nightmarish tale meant as a dire
warning, as a nurse might do for a naughty child.

 
          
 
Hester had groped for the small notebook and
pencil she had thoughtfully brought along in her reticule, but she discovered
that the facts as they fell from Mrs. Kirby's lips were so dark that she had
trouble setting them down. The woman must have noted her distress for she
interrupted herself.

 
          
 
"I speak frankly,
Miss Lane
, perhaps too frankly. You are young and not
of
London
, I have heard. Perhaps in your homeland
there is not such want, such evil to be known. But I have so long worked with
these poor girls that my indignation, no, my anger, sometimes leads me into
speaking more plainly than I should."

 
          
 
Hester remembered the warning Captain Ellison
had given her earlier—that perhaps some facts would be too strong for her
readers. Now it seemed that Mrs. Kirby had come to the same point of view.

 
          
 
"The stories I have to tell,
Miss Lane
, are perhaps not for the eyes of the
readers of The British Lady. It is best to show a brighter side, present our
needs in a softer and more acceptable fashion. I am sorry that I became so
carried away as to show you the darkest side of the lives of these girls. Let
us turn to more cheerful matters—the first being what happens to girls such as
Sallie and the rest after they have had a chance to better themselves and move
into a sunlit world." And she talked of the teaching practiced in her
establishment, of this graduate (as one might term them) or that who had gone
forth to very acceptable positions. These young girls found that they could
make their way as respectable workers able to hold up their heads with pride.

 
          
 
After Mrs. Kirby finished her stories, she
showed Hester through the establishment. There were eight girls there now, and
each showed a happy face as Mrs. Kirby complimented one after another on the
work they readily showed to the visitor.