Bildungsromans; Feminist fiction; Women -- Employment -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
“I have heard of folks putting on their best things and going out, but
never coming back again, when they owed money. It’s a mean trick, but
it’s sometimes done by them you wouldn’t think it of,” she said, with
an aggravating sniff of intelligence.
To be suspected of dishonesty was the last drop in Christie’s full cup.
She looked at the woman with a strong desire to do something violent,
for every nerve was tingling with irritation and anger. But she
controlled herself, though her face was colorless and her hands were
more tremulous than before. Unfastening her comfortable cloak she
replaced it with a shabby shawl; took off her neat bonnet and put on a
hood, unfolded six linen shirts, and shook them out before her
landlady’s eyes; then retied the parcel, and, pausing on the threshold
of the door, looked back with an expression that haunted the woman long
afterward, as she said, with the quiver of strong excitement in her
voice:
“Mrs. Flint, I have always dealt honorably by you; I always mean to do
it, and don’t deserve to be suspected of dishonesty like that. I leave
every thing I own behind me, and if I don’t come back, you can sell
them all and pay yourself, for I feel now as if I never wanted to see
you or this room again.”
Then she went rapidly away, supported by her indignation, for she had
done her best to pay her debts; had sold the few trinkets she
possessed, and several treasures given by the Carrols, to settle her
doctor’s bill, and had been half killing herself to satisfy Mrs.
Flint’s demands. The consciousness that she had been too lavish in her
generosity when fortune smiled upon her, made the present want all the
harder to bear. But she would neither beg nor borrow, though she knew
Harry would delight to give, and Uncle Enos lend her money, with a
lecture on extravagance, gratis.
“I’ll paddle my own canoe as long as I can,” she said, sternly; “and
when I must ask help I’ll turn to strangers for it, or scuttle my boat,
and go down without troubling any one.”
When she came to her employer’s door, the servant said: “Missis was
out;” then seeing Christie’s disappointed face, she added,
confidentially:
“If it’s any comfort to know it, I can tell you that missis wouldn’t
have paid you if she had a been to home. There’s been three other women
here with work, and she’s put ’em all off. She always does, and beats
’em down into the bargain, which ain’t genteel to my thinkin’.”
“She promised me I should be well paid for these, because I undertook
to get them done without fail. I’ve worked day and night rather than
disappoint her, and felt sure of my money,” said Christie,
despondently.
“I’m sorry, but you won’t get it. She told me to tell you your prices
was too high, and she could find folks to work cheaper.”
“She did not object to the price when I took the work, and I have
half-ruined my eyes over the fine stitching. See if it isn’t nicely
done.” And Christie displayed her exquisite needlework with pride.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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