Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Poor families -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
"I don't know exactly, but it won't be above a shilling or two."
"But, my dear, you can't afford that."
"Well, let me see. My wages are ten shillings a month, and I do not
need all the money."
"Of course not But you have to think of the future."
"Well, that's just what I am doing."
The cook did not understand what I meant by these words, and as the
bell rang to show that I was wanted, we dropped the subject, and I did
not dare to touch upon it again in spite of the growing impatience and
longing within me.
A few days later, however, it happened that the cook spoke of it again
quite abruptly.
"Do you think that you would get some benefit from it?"
"From what?" I asked, and looked as if I had no notion of her thoughts.
"From the English language, of course."
"Well, if I knew how to speak it correctly I am certain that I could
make a lot of money with it."
"Where?"
"Not here, of course," I replied, and turned my head guiltily away
from her gaze. We had to do the scrubbing again, and the cook devoted
herself to the work almost savagely; but when the kitchen glittered
and shone, and we were once more sitting down to drink our coffee, she
continued:
"You must try to take your lessons on a Friday evening. The mistress as
well as the master are at the club, and won't be back before eleven. Do
you think you could be back before then?"
I was happy beyond expression, and would have liked to put my arms
round the neck of that dear simple creature.
"What do you think!" I exclaimed, wild with joy, and with my hands
folded as if in prayer; "I shall be in much earlier than that." But in
a moment I grew worried again. "Are you sure that the porter won't tell
about it?"
"Never mind about the porter. I will have a talk with him."
After that we decided that I should look out for a teacher, and
the matter was settled. On the following days when I took out the
children, I looked up and down the houses most carefully, and found at
last what I was searching for. "Languages and Music taught here," stood
out clearly from a black board of granite, and the black board was
fastened on to a stately house. In spite of the shyness caused by the
grandeur of the house I longed to go in right away, but the presence of
the children kept me from carrying out my wish. They were old enough
to understand everything, and there was not the slightest doubt that
they would go and repeat my conversation with a teacher of "languages
and music" to their mother. It is true that my mistress was always most
kind to me, but, as cook remarked, she would never have understood.
When I arrived home I told my friend about my success, and asked her
how I could manage to go there without letting anybody know.
"The only thing you can do," she said, "is to peep in when you go to
fetch the milk."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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