Fancy a dingy1 old brick house on B—— street, New York city—dusty outside and moldy2 in all its ragged3, papered walls inside—a dreary4 house with small, poorly ventilated rooms—these rooms wretchedly furnished, and I have made you at home in “Miss Scrimp’s Boarding-House for ladies only—no gentlemen boarded, lodged5, or admitted.”
For this was the inscription6 on a faded tin sign nailed over the front door.
And in this building existed—I will not say lived—most of the time, between thirty and fifty working girls, attracted there by the cheapness of board, which enabled them to make ends meet on the wretched wages due to “hard times,” or hard-hearted employers, or perhaps to a medium between the two.
Miss Scrimp, a maiden7 lady, who acknowledged herself to be forty-five—one of the oldest boarders said that had been her age for over ten years—only charged four dollars a week for boarders in her best, lower rooms, and it ran as low as two dollars and a[6] half in the upper story, and two attic8 chambers—for this was a four-story house. She had but two servants—one to cook, wash, and iron, the other a pitiful, thin little creature, as errand girl, waitress, maid of all work, and all work it was for her, from early dawn till far into the night. She did all the sweeping9, set out the table, helped to wash and wipe dishes, carried Miss Scrimp’s market-basket, went to the grocery, cleaned and lighted lamps—indeed, did almost everything that had to be done outside of the kitchen, and bore the abuse of Biddy Lanigan, the cook, and that of her mistress, like a little martyr10, as she in truth was.
Little Jess they called her—her full name was Jessie Albemarle—was as good as she could be to all around her, no matter how she was treated, but there was one young girl in that house whom she almost worshiped—first, because Hattie Butler was very good to her; next, because Hattie was really the most beautiful creature she had ever seen on earth.
Though Hattie lodged in the very topmost room of the house, when she came home weary from her daily toil11 she would find her room swept as clean as clean could be, fresh water in her pitcher12, and often a bouquet13 of flowers, picked up at market or elsewhere, perfuming the little room. And she knew Little Jess had done all this for the love there was between them.
Hattie, I said before, was very beautiful. Just seventeen, and entering on her eighteenth year, her form was full of that slender grace so peculiar14 to budding womanhood—just tall enough to pass the medium, without being an approach to awkwardness. Eyes of a jet, sparkling black, shaded by[7] long, fringe-like lashes15, features of the Grecian type, complexion16 rich, but not too brown, the expressiveness17 of her face a very marvel18.
No one, to look at her white hands, her slim, tapering19 fingers, her general appearance, even in her plain dress, would have, at first glance, taken her for a working girl, though she sewed folios in a book-bindery down town for ten hours every day sure, and often much longer when there was overwork to do.
She was a quiet girl, making but few friends, and no intimates, though when I write of her she had been for nearly two years a boarder with Miss Scrimp. The latter, for a wonder, liked her, though, as a general thing, she seemed to hate pretty girls, simply because they were pretty; while she had most likely kept her state of single wretchedness because she was more than plain—she was ugly. She had a sharp, hook nose—a parrot-bill nose, if we dare insult the bird by a comparison. She was cross-eyed, and her eyes were small and greenish-gray in hue20. Her cheek bones were high, her chin long and sharp. Her thin lips opened almost from ear to ear, and in her dirty morning gown, slopping around, her form looked like an old coffee-bag, half filled with paper scraps21, perambulating about over a pair of old slippers—number sevens if an inch.
But Miss Scrimp really liked Hattie Butler, beautiful as she was, and this was the reason:
At supper-time, before she ate a mouthful, every Saturday night Hattie laid her board money, two dollars and a half, down at the head of the table where Miss Scrimp presided. It had been her habit ever since she came; it was a good example to others, though all did not follow it.
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Again, Hattie ate what was placed before her, and never grumbled22. She never found hairs in the rancid butter; or, if she did, she kept it to herself. If her bread was dry and hard she soaked it in her tea or coffee, but did not turn her nose up as others did, and threaten to go away if Miss Scrimp did not set a better table.
And, best of all, Hattie was a light eater, as Miss Scrimp often said, in hearing of her other boarders, too sensible to hurt her complexion by using too much greasy23 food.
Some of the homelier girls sometimes used the old “gag,” if I may use a story term, and said “she lived on love;” yet the dozen or more who worked in the same bindery with her never saw her receive attentions from any man—never saw any person approach her in a lover-like way.
Her only fault to all who knew her was that there was a mystery about her.
That she was a born lady, her manners, her quiet, dignified24 way, her brief conversation, ever couched in unexceptionable language, told plainly. But she never told any one about herself. She never spoke25 of parents or relatives—never alluded26 to past fortunes. But Little Jess used to look in wonder at a shelf of books in Hattie’s room. There were books in French, German, and Spanish, and on Sundays, when she sometimes stole up stairs to see her favorite among all the boarders, she found her reading these books. And she had a large portfolio27 of drawings, and at times she added to them with a skillful pencil.
One thing was certain. Hattie was very poor—she had no income beyond that gained by her daily labor28. She washed her own clothes, and, by permission[9] of Biddy Lanigan, ironed them on Saturday evenings in the kitchen, for she had even a kind word for Biddy, and kind words are almost as precious as gold to the poor.
Hattie seldom was able to earn over four dollars a week, as wages ran, and thus she had but little to use for dress, though she was ever dressed with exceeding taste, plain though her garments were. These she cut and made, buying the patterns and goods only.
When she had overwork she made more, and she had been seen with a bank-book in her hand, so it was evident she had saved something to help along with should sickness overtake her.
She had been two years and one week boarding at Miss Scrimp’s, when one Thursday the postman, or mail-carrier, rather, delivered a letter at the door directed to her.
Hattie was down at the bindery then, and Jessie Albemarle, answering the bell, got the letter. She would have kept it till Hattie came, but her mistress demanded to see it, and took charge of it.
Little Jess had seen that it was a large letter, postmarked from somewhere in California, and that it had a singular seal in wax on the back. The impression represented two hearts pierced with an arrow.
The address was only the name, street, number, and city.
Miss Scrimp looked at it very closely. Had there been no seal, only gum as a closing medium, it is possible her examination might have been closer.
Biddy Lanigan, once when she quarreled with her mistress and employer, boldly twitted her with having[10] “stamed” letters over her “tay-kettle” and then opened them.
“This is a man’s handwrite!” muttered Miss Scrimp. “I don’t like my boarders having men to write to ’em. But this one is away off in Californy—like as not, rich as all creation. I wish I knew who he is and what he wants. I’ll hand her the letter afore all the boarders at supper to-night, and if she opens it, I’ll watch her face, and maybe I can guess from that what’s up. She’ll never tell no other way. She has just the closest little mouth I ever did see. But come to think, she mightn’t open it at the table. She wouldn’t be apt to, for all the girls would be curious to know if it was a love-letter, and plague her, maybe. And she is too good a girl to be plagued. I’ll keep it till after she has had supper and gone to her room, and then I’ll go up, friendly-like and take a chair—if there’s two in her room, which I’m not sure of—hand her the letter, and wait till she opens it. And I’ll ask her if her brother in Californy is well—make as if some one had told me she had a brother there.”
This plan, talked over to herself, satisfied Miss Scrimp, and she put the letter in one of her capacious pockets, there to remain till evening.
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1
dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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moldy
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| adj.发霉的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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dreary
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| adj.令人沮丧的，沉闷的，单调乏味的 | |
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5
lodged
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| v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 )；暂住；埋入；（权利、权威等）归属 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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7
maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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8
attic
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| n.顶楼，屋顶室 | |
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9
sweeping
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| adj.范围广大的，一扫无遗的 | |
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10
martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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11
toil
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| vi.辛劳工作，艰难地行动；n.苦工，难事 | |
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12
pitcher
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| n.(有嘴和柄的)大水罐；(棒球)投手 | |
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13
bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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14
peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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15
lashes
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| n.鞭挞( lash的名词复数 )；鞭子；突然猛烈的一击；急速挥动v.鞭打( lash的第三人称单数 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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16
complexion
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| n.肤色；情况，局面；气质，性格 | |
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expressiveness
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| n.富有表现力 | |
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18
marvel
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| vi.(at)惊叹vt.感到惊异；n.令人惊异的事 | |
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19
tapering
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| adj.尖端细的 | |
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hue
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| n.色度；色调；样子 | |
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21
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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22
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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23
greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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24
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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25
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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26
alluded
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| 提及，暗指( allude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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27
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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28
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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