London (England) -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Women -- Fiction
"I’m quite sure of that," Miss Grig agreed. "And, of course, you’ve been
paid for all overtime--and there’s been quite a good deal. We all do
the best we can. At least, I hope so.... And you’ve never seen Lord
Mackworth since?"
"No."
"And you simply dropped the envelope into the letter-box?"
"Yes."
"Didn’t see Lord Mackworth that morning?"
"Certainly not."
By this time Lilian was convinced that Miss Grig’s intention was to
provoke her to open resentment. She guessed also that Milly must have
deliberately kept silence to her, Lilian, about the Mackworth account in
the hope of trouble on Miss Grig’s return, and that Milly had done
everything she could that morning to ensure trouble. The pot had been
simmering in secret for weeks; now it was boiling over. She felt
helpless and furious.
"You know," Miss Grig proceeded, "there’s a rule in this office that
night-work must only be delivered by hand by the day-staff the next day.
If it’s wanted urgently before the day-staff arrives the customer must
fetch it."
"Excuse me, Miss Grig, I never heard of that rule."
Miss Grig smiled again: "Well, at any rate, it was your business to have
heard of it, my dear. Everybody else knows about it."
"I told Mr. Grig I was going to deliver it myself, and he didn’t say
anything."
"Please don’t attempt to lay the blame on my brother. He is far too
good-natured." Miss Grig’s gaze burned into Lilian’s face as, with an
enigmatic intonation, she uttered these words. "You did wrong. And I
suppose you’ve never heard either of the rule that new customers must
always pay on or before delivery?"
"Yes, I have. But I couldn’t ask for the money at half-past six in the
morning, could I? And I couldn’t tell him how much it would be before
I’d typed it."
"Yes, you could, my dear, and you ought to have done. You could have
estimated it and left a margin for errors. That was the proper course.
And if you know anything about Lord Mackworth you must know that his
debts are notorious. I believe he’s one of the fastest young men about
town, and it’s more than possible that that account’s a bad debt."
"But can’t we send in the account again?" Lilian weakly suggested; she
was overthrown by the charge of fast-living against Lord Mackworth, yet
she had always in her heart assumed that he was a fast liver.
"I’ve just telephoned to 6a St. James’s Street, and I needn’t say that
Lord Mackworth is no longer there, and they don’t know where he is. You
see what comes of disobeying rules."
Lilian lifted her head: "Well, Miss Grig, the bill isn’t so very big,
and if you’ll please deduct it from my wages on Saturday I hope that
will be the end of that."
It was plain that the bewildered creature had but an excessively
imperfect notion of how to be an employee. She had taken to the
vocation too late in life.
Miss Grig put her hand to the support of her forehead, and paused.
"I can tolerate many things," said she, with great benignity, "but not
insolence."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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