there was a regular flutter in the boarding-house of miss scrimp when the bindery girls got in that friday evening; for they brought the news that hattie butler had been promoted in the bindery, a new position given her, and her wages raised to ten dollars a week. some of the girls were really glad, for hattie had ever been so gentle, so quiet, so kind when any of them were sick, that she had few enemies. but others were envious of her good fortune, as they ever had been of her beauty, so there were a few to sneer and hint that mr. jones, the foreman, or mr. w——, one of the proprietors, had only promoted her because she was handsome, and they wanted her off by herself where they could talk to her and say things the other girls couldn’t hear.
the object of the flutter, the laudation, and the envy, seemed all this time to care the least for her promotion of any that knew it. she did not speak of it, even to miss scrimp, at whose right hand her chair at table was always placed; but the latter had heard of it before hattie got home, and was ready with her congratulations the instant hattie sat down.
“i’m awful glad to hear you’ve been set up in the bindery, and get so much better wages, dear,” she said.
and she screwed her sallow cheeks and thin lips into a picture of a smile which nast would glory to copy, if he could only have seen it.
“thank you, miss scrimp; but i do not know as it[22] will be much better for me. my former work was very easy. it only exercised my fingers. this will tax both fingers and brain. my head aches over it already.”
“dear, dear! well, i’ll have biddy lanigan make you a real strong cup of tea and some toast.”
“no, thank you, miss scrimp, i do not wish it. the food which is good enough for the rest always satisfies me.”
“i know it, dear. you never find fault, and that makes me so much the more ready to better your fare when i can. and that reminds me—miss dolhear has got sick and gone home to the country; she that came here, poor thing, to learn dress-making; and her room, on the second floor, front, is empty now, and you shall have it for only one dollar more than you pay now, though i charged her two. her folks were well off: they used to write and send her money, and i guess she got sick a-eatin’ too much cake and candy. her room is all stuck up with it. but i’ll have little jess clean it out for you, if you’ll take it.”
“thank you, miss scrimp, i do not wish to change. i feel very much at home in my little chamber, and the higher one gets in the city the purer is the air they breathe.”
“dear, dear! i thought you’d like to change. but you know what you like best. do let me call biddy and have some toast made for you.”
“no, thank you, miss scrimp. there is plenty before me, i am sure.”
“dear! dear! that’s just your own nice way always. i never heard a complaint from your lips, and there’s some that are never satisfied.”
and here miss scrimp sent a scornful, cross eyed[23] glance down the table. but no one could tell exactly at whom she was looking, so the look didn’t hurt anybody.
as hattie made no further remark, the usual clatter of knives and forks on slenderly-filled plates was alone heard for a time.
but when hattie, as usual, arose earliest of all, and went to her room, quite an unusual rush of conversation, and all about her, commenced.
“such luck! from four dollars a week to ten, and all because she can talk dutch!” said one—a very plain and a very ignorant girl.
“ten dollars? how she’ll shine out in silk on sundays, i’ll bet, and look for a beau as fast as the best of us,” said another. “she couldn’t do it in ten-cent calico. oh, no, the proud thing!”
“she is not a girl of that kind,” cried another, warmly. “she is the prettiest girl in this house to-night, and you all know it.”
“yes, stick up for her, sally perkins. we know why. when you had the measles so bad she lost three days work sitting up with you and waiting on you.”
“thank heaven she did,” cried sally, earnestly. “i might have died before one of you would have done as much for me. she is a living angel if ever there was one. so there now. i’ll never speak to a girl that breathes a word against her so long as i live.”
“good for sally perkins,” cried a dozen in a breath, for more than one in that crowd of girls had received kindness from hattie butler when kindness was so much needed.
and the battle of tongues grew less and less, and soon tea was over, and the girls scattered as usual.[24] some to their rooms, weary enough to go right to rest—others to linger a little while in the old parlor and get others to fix up their scanty wardrobe so as to be ready for their only day of rest or pleasure—the blessed sunday so near at hand—but one day of toil to intervene.
our heroine—where was she? in her little chamber thanking her heavenly father that at last the stern strife for daily bread was made easier to her, and that a glimmer of light could be seen through the dark clouds of poverty.
pure-hearted and innocent, she did not dream that any one could so envy her good fortune as to hate her for it. if she had she would have prayed god to forgive them.
