Confessions of a Young Lady: Her Doings and MisdoingsMarsh, Richard
General
Confessions of a Young Lady: Her Doings and Misdoings
Marsh, Richard
England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Girls -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
When there are six children, and the eldest is a girl, and she is only
sixteen, and they have no relatives, and not one grown-up person to
advise them, it does seem strange what a very few ways there are of
making a fortune. That is, within a reasonable space of time. So far
as I could make out, from what the others said, for every one of them
you wanted money to start with. And if you had no money, it was not
the slightest use your doing anything. Then the boys had such
impracticable notions. Dick was full of South Africa. He declared that
nothing was easier than to go to South Africa; find what he called a
"claim," on which there were tons of gold, or so many pounds to the
ton, I do not quite know which; turn it into a company, and there you
were, a millionaire, in what he termed "a brace of shakes." But it
appeared to me that that "brace of shakes" would be some time in
coming. First, he would have to get to South Africa, then he would
have to find his "claim,"--and there was no proof that they were found
by everyone; then he would have to get his company up, which might
take weeks; and, in the meantime, were we supposed to starve? I seemed
to have read somewhere that a human being could not be kept alive
without food for more than seven days. I doubted if there would be
much left of me after four-and-twenty hours. Jack wanted to be an
engine-driver on the railway line, a profession which I feel sure is
not too highly paid; while Jim actually yearned to be a fireman in the
fire brigade, though how he imagined that he was going to earn a
fortune that way was beyond my comprehension.
Nora and I were reluctantly compelled to admit that if our means of
sustenance were to depend on the efforts of the masculine portion of
the family we should apparently have to go very short indeed. And the
field for girls did seem to be so circumscribed. As I said to her--
"There do seem to be such a few ways in which girls can get money."
"There aren't any."
We were in the kitchen, she and I alone together. We were supposed to
be getting the tea ready. There was not a servant about the place. And
the condition the house was getting into in consequence was beyond
anything. She was sitting on the edge of the table, with a coal scoop
in one hand and a toasting-fork in the other. Nora always was of a
pessimistic description. She invariably looked on the blackest side of
everything. So one got into the habit of allowing for the peculiarity
of her outlook. Besides, I had in my head at that moment the
glimmering of an idea of how to earn an immense amount.
"There are some ways. For instance, there's writing. There are girls
who write for papers, and all kinds of things."
"Only those who can't write get paid anything."
I wondered if she had been trying her own hand. The statement did
sound so sweeping.
"There's teaching. Look at the lots of governesses that must be
wanted."
"Let 'em be wanted. I prefer prussic acid."
"There's drawing for the magazines."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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