Prisoners of Poverty: Women Wage-Workers, Their Trades and Their LivesCampbell, Helen
History
Prisoners of Poverty: Women Wage-Workers, Their Trades and Their Lives
Campbell, Helen
Women -- Employment; Women -- Employment -- United States
"Well, it was a handsome house an' elegant things in the parlors an'
bedrooms, but my heart sunk when she took me into the kitchen. The last
girl had gone off in a rage an' left everything, an' there was grease
and dirt from floor to ceiling. It was a deep basement, with one window
an' a door opening right into the area with glass set in it, an' iron
bars to both; but dirty to that degree you couldn't see three feet
beyond; cockroaches walking round at their ease an' water-bugs so thick
you didn't know where to lay anything.
"'You'll have things quite your own way,' the lady said, 'for I never
come into the kitchen. Bridget attends to upstairs, but you attend to
fires and the meals and washing and ironing, and I expect punctuality
and everything well done.'
"'At least it sounds independent,' I thought, and I made up my mind to
try it, for the wages were fifteen dollars a month, an' that with board
seemed doing well. Bridget came down presently. She was seventeen an' a
pretty girl rather, but she looked fit to drop, an' fell down in a
chair.
"'It's the bell,' she said. 'The comin' an' goin' here niver ceases, an'
whin 'tisn't the front door it's her own bell, an' she'll jingle it or
holler up the tube in the middle o' the night if she takes a notion.'
"I wouldn't ask questions, for I thought I should find out soon enough,
so I said I'd like to go up to my room a minute.
"'It's our room you'll mane,' she said. 'There's but the one, an' it's
hard enough for two to be slapin' on a bed that's barely the width o'
one.'
"My heart sank then, for I'd always had a place that was comfortable all
my life, but it sunk deeper when I went up there. A hall bedroom, with a
single bed an' a small table, with a washbowl an' small pitcher, one
chair an' some nails in the door for hanging things; that was all except
a torn shade at the window. I looked at the bed. The two ragged
comfortables were foul with long use. I thought of my nice bed down at
Spring Street, my own good sheets an' blankets an' all, an' I began to
cry.
"'You don't look as if you was used to the likes of it,' Bridget said.
'There's another room the same as this but betther. Why not ax for it?'
"I started down the stairs an' came right upon Mrs. Melrose, who smiled
as if she thought I had been enjoying myself.
"'I'm perfectly willing to try an' do your work as well as I know how,'
I said, 'but I must have a place to myself an' clean things in it.'
"'Highty-tighty!' says she. 'What impudence is this? You'll take what I
give you and be thankful to get it. Plenty as good as you have slept in
that room and never complained.'
"'Then it's time some one did,' I said. 'I don't ask anything but
decency, an' if you can't give it I must try elsewhere.'
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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