London (England) -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
She stared at her young reflection in the dim mirror over her little
dressing table. "I believe I look sufficiently 'intelligent' to perform
'nominal duties' as a companion," she told herself candidly. Then she
hunted for the date of the paper, and was ready to shed tears of
disappointment when she discovered that it was that of the previous day.
"There are so many intelligent young females, and I suppose everyone of
them would like to travel in America," said Jane, still eying the
brown-eyed young person in the glass. "Besides, I'm locked in."
The brown eyes twinkled as they turned toward the one window of the
attic room. More than once, when she was a small girl, Jane had escaped
from durance vile by way of the projecting gutter just outside her
window. It was a perilous feat; but Jane was muscular and agile as a
boy, and of a certain defiant courage withal, born perhaps of her
unhappy lot in life.
"It would vex Aunt Agatha frightfully if I should fall and get killed on
the conservatory roof," murmured Jane, as she pinned up her long skirts
securely, "and it would cost Uncle Robert a whole lot in broken glass
and potted plants and things; but I don't care!"
In another minute she had crawled out of her little window and
commenced her dangerous journey to a neighboring window, which, luckily
for the bold adventuress, stood wide open. Twice the girl's cautious
feet slipped unsteadily on a bit of ice, and once the gutter itself
cracked ominously under her weight; but at last she gained the window,
climbed in, and sank white and shaken to the floor.
"Jane Blythe, you must be losing your nerve," she told herself sternly,
when she had gathered sufficient strength to stumble dizzily to her
feet; "the last time you tried that you didn't turn a hair!"
The rest was easy, and in less than an hour's time Miss Blythe found
herself ringing the bell at 10 Belgravia Crescent. The slatternly maid,
distinguished by the traditional smudge over one eye, informed her that
Mrs. Markle was within, and in the same breath that she was "clean wore
out with interviewin' young females."
Jane's heart sank; nevertheless she bestowed a sixpence upon the dingy
maid with an air of regal unconcern, and was straightway ushered into
the presence of Mrs. Augustus Markle, with a flourish of the dingy one's
plaided pinafore and the brief announcement: "'Ere's another of 'em,
ma'am!"
The stout lady, solidly enthroned upon a sofa before the dispirited
fire, did not turn her elaborately coiffured head.
"Ze young woman may come in," intoned a full, rich, foreign-sounding
voice which somewhat prepared Jane for the large, dark, highly colored
visage, flanked with dubious diamond eardrops, which Mrs. Markle turned
upon her visitor.
"You wis' to inquire about ze situation--eh?" pursued this individual,
without any token of impatience. "I haf already seen feefty of ze London
demoiselles _ce matin_."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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