Читать книгу: «A Little Question in Ladies' Rights», страница 3

"What?"

"You've got to apologize to Effie for calling her a hired girl."

"Well, ain't she a hired girl?" Willie protested.

It was the same question Margery had asked herself earlier in the day. Now, however, she was ready to answer it differently.

"No," she said firmly, "she's not a hired girl. She stays with us because she loves us and wants to take care of us. Once a lady sneaked in and tried to get Effie away from us, and do you know what Effie did? She chased the lady out of the yard! So you see she's our true friend and just like one of the family, too. Now you're not friends with a person you call a hired girl, are you? Effie was just right not to let us call her that. Why, do you know, Willie Jones," Margery concluded impressively, "I love Effie much better than I do some of my relations!"

This seemed an irrefutable argument to Margery, but Willie Jones again protested.

"She's a hired girl even if you do love her."

"She's not, I say!" roared Margery. "And, Willie Jones, you stop arguing! You're making me sicker! Just see how my head wobbles!" She wobbled it shakily a moment to show, and then demanded sharply: "Now, then, Willie Jones, is Effie a hired girl or isn't she?"

Many a man before Willie Jones has been forced to make a choice between facts and a lady's increasing illness on the one hand and fancy and her smiles on the other. Like most of his kind, Willie Jones had not the moral courage to face the lady's increasing illness.

"Well, if you say she's not a hired girl, I guess she's not. You ought to know."

"And will you apologize to her for your mistake?"

"Yes, if you want me to."

"Well, I do want you to. So come on. I'm nearly dead now and I just tell you I can't stand it much longer."

When they reached the kitchen, they found Effie with nose a-tilt and eyes suspiciously red. At sight of them she burst into a loud and cheerful strain:

 
"Wait till the clouds roll by, Nellie,
Wait till the clouds roll by,."
 

"Effie," Margery began. Effie did not hear, so Margery had to try again. "Effie!"

"Oh," remarked Effie, stopping her song and looking at them, as it were, for the first time. Then she asked, in her haughtiest tone: "Is it me yir talkin' to?"

"Willie Jones wants to say something to you, Effie."

Margery gave Willie a push and he began bravely:

"Say, Effie, I'm awfully sorry I called you that. But it wasn't my fault, honest it wasn't, because, don't you know, I thought you were. But Margery says you're not. She says you're one of the fambly."

"Did she honest?" cried Effie, eagerly, her face lighting up.

"Sure she did, Effie. Why, do you know, Effie, she says she loves you better than she does any of her real relations!"

When you undertake to do a thing it's a pleasure to do it properly.

"No!" said Effie, incredulously.

"Cross my heart!" vowed Willie Jones, suiting action to word.

"Oh, you darlint!" Effie cried, opening her arms to gather in her repentant child. Then she stopped in concern. "What's ailin' yir finger?"

"Stung!" Margery quavered. "But don't mind that, Effie. It don't hurt much now. It's my stummick! Ugh! Ugh! I'm just dying to thr'up! Please get the hot water and things, quick!"

"And are you feelin' sick, you poor lamb," Effie crooned, compassionately, as she rushed about making preparations. "Now, dearie – "

"Effie, make Willie Jones go out first."

"Whoop!" shouted Effie, turning upon Willie with brandished arms.

"Wait, Effie, wait a minute! Tell him when his mother pays him, he can bring over my nickel, and if I'm not here he can give it to you."

"Do you hear that, now?" Effie demanded roughly, pushing Willie out by the shoulder and closing the door.

"Now, then, darlint, just drink this down. That's right. Drink it all. Now swally yir little hand. That's right. That's right. Oh, now yir goin' a-feel fine! Now ye'll soon be a well girl. Once again. That's right. That's right… It's just a good thing to get rid of all that nasty old stuff, ain't it, now?."

When this part of Margery's illness was attended to, Effie bathed her finger, extracted the sting, and in a short time had her feeling delightfully convalescent.

"And, Effie," Margery began coaxingly in that moment of sweet intimacy between nurse and patient when relief has come, "you're never going to Tom McGinniss's house to live, are you?"

"Tom McGinniss's house!" snorted Effie, outraged and indignant at the mere suggestion. "Well, I should say not! Who's been puttin' such ideas into your head? Why, those McGinniss kids, even if they are me own flesh and blood, are a set of young ruffians! And Tom's wife! Whew! Would you believe it, she's tryin' to break into society! And the things I know about her! No, siree! Me and Maggie McGinniss couldn't live twenty-four hours under the same roof! Don't you ever insult me again by suggestin' such a thing!.. And now, darlint, I think it will be just as well if we go to bed and take a little rest."

After she had punched the pillow and smoothed the sheet and had been assured several times that the patient was feeling just lovely, honest she was, Effie lingered a moment uncertainly.

"And, darlint dear," she began half shyly, "you ain't never again goin' a-let any one call your poor old Effie that ugly name, are you now? It's a turrible thing to bunch a decent, hardworkin' girl with a set o' tramps like them neighborhood hired girls. I just tell you a girl has to be mighty careful nowadays what she lets folks call her. Even if she's a perfect lady, they're only too quick to take advantage of her. Especially these here men and boys."

"You just bet they are!" Margery agreed heartily. "They're always trying to get the best of us! But just let me tell you one thing: You needn't think I'm not going to get that nickel, because I am!"

PART TWO

THE next day Margery saw nothing of Willie until afternoon. Then she caught him just as he was leaving his own gate. Apparently he did not see her, and she had to gain his attention by calling him.

"Willie, wait a minute. I want to ask you something."

Willie seemed to be in a great hurry. Nevertheless, he paused.

"Well?"

"Did your mother pay you that dime yesterday?"

"What dime?"

"That dime for those two quarts of berries that you and me picked together."

"O-oh!"

"Well, did she?"

"Did she? Of course she did!"

"Well, have you got my nickel?"

Willie looked at her scornfully.

"Of course I've got your nickel! Do you suppose I eat 'em?"

Margery was very sure that that was exactly what he would like to do with both their nickels – transmuted, that is to say, into eatable commodities. But she didn't care to lose time on verbal quibbles. She came to the point at once:

"Will you please give me my nickel now? I want it."

Willie squirmed impatiently.

"How can I give you your old nickel before I get the dime changed? I don't see what you're in such a rush for! Besides, I'm in a hurry. I got to see a fella."

Margery held out her hand.

"Give me the dime and Effie will change it for us. It won't take two minutes."

"Effie nuthin'! What do you think I am? I tell you, you got to wait! I'm in a hurry."

"And I tell you, Willie Jones, I'm not going to wait any longer! I've been waiting ever since yesterday afternoon, and now I've got you I'm going to stay right with you until you pay me!"

With a grunt of disgust Willie turned and ran. As the weakness of sex and the helplessness of young ladyhood had not yet had time to settle down upon her, Margery promptly ran after him. She was as good a runner as he was any day, so he was mightily mistaken if he thought he was going to get away by running. After a few moments he seemed to realize this, for he drew up, panting, and, with a change of tactics, turned a smiling face to Margery.

"Do you want to spend your nickel, Margery?"

Did she want to spend her nickel? What a question! Did he suppose she wanted to punch a hole in it and hang it around her neck?

"Of course I want to spend my nickel! And I want to spend it myself, too. I don't want no one else to spend it for me."

Willie lounged up to the window of a bakery shop.

"Jiminy, those cakes do look good!" He turned to her blandly. "Say, Margery, do you want me to buy some cakes?"

"No, I don't want you to buy some cakes! All I want is my nickel."

Willie sighed, and went back to the cakes. The longer he looked the hungrier he became. He sighed again.

"I just guess I'll have to buy some cakes – that's all there is about it. You can wait out here for me, Margery."

But Margery did not care to wait for him outside. Bakery shops sometimes have back doors that let out on little alleys. So Margery said:

"I think I'll just go in with you, Willie."

Willie knew the cakes he wanted, but, being a wary trader, he priced other kinds first.

"Them's two for a nickel," the German lady behind the counter told him, "and them's a cent apiece – ten cents a dozen. Oh, them's real expensive – five cents apiece."

Finally he pointed to the objects of his choice. They were long, thick, yellow cakes, fancifully encrusted with chocolate.

"Three for a nickel," the German lady said.