For Gold or Soul? Part 11

"I wonder who the fellow is who has got his eye on you," said Miss Jennings, soberly. "It's the same old story. They think because we are poor that we are to be bought and sold like puppets. You'd be surprised, Faith, to know how men look upon us girls, but never mind about it, dear; Hardy can't do anything until the superintendent comes back, and by that time Mr. Watkins may have found the money."

"Who is Mr. Watkins?" asked Faith, who had quite forgotten the young man.

"He's the superintendent's lackey, but they call him an a.s.sistant," said Miss Jennings, with a slight blush. "He's a remarkably fine young man who would be honest if he could, but, poor soul, he's like the rest of us--tied hand and foot! If he expresses an honest opinion, out he goes into the street, and that means that not only himself but his mother would starve."

"I remember him now," said Faith; "he was in the superintendent's office when I applied for my position. I liked his looks; he seemed refined and honest. I wish I could help him, but--Oh, Mary, what's the matter?"

Miss Jennings had suddenly put her handkerchief to her lips. When she took it down there were blood stains upon it.

"Nothing, dear," she said as soon as she could speak, "only the last end of a hemorrhage that I had this morning."

"But do you have to work to-day? Is it really necessary?" urged Faith.

Miss Jennings turned to her quickly and opened her pocket-book. There were seventeen cents and a small photograph in the purse. Faith had just time to recognize the picture as that of Mr. Watkins when Miss Jennings closed the book with a flush of annoyance.

"That's all I've got to last out the week, Faith," she said between her coughs, "and I have a crippled brother at home, a last legacy from my parents."

She hurried up the stairs, with Faith close behind her. In five minutes the work of the day had begun; goods were being taken deftly from the shelves and displayed upon the counters.

Miss Fairbanks was on hand and as cross as ever. She went around like a virago and scolded nearly every one in her department.

When Maggie Brady came in she looked weary and jaded, and the paint on her face made her more conspicuous than ever.

During a lull in the business Faith heard her speaking to Miss Fairbanks in a tone that showed plainly that she was very confidential with the buyer.

"Jim Denton took me to the theatre last night and we had an elegant supper after. It cost him a pile, I tell you, for I just laid myself out to be expensive. It's the only way I have of getting square with the firm. What the old man makes his son blows in; that's right, ain't it, Fairbanks?" she winked at the woman as she finished.

"Sure," replied Miss Fairbanks in a lower tone; "but look out for him, Mag, there's a new star in the heavens. I wouldn't trust Jim Denton around the corner, and you wouldn't either if you were wiser."

"Oh, I'm not afraid of that, if that's what you mean," said the girl.

She nodded her head in Faith's direction, but did not deign to look at her.

"She's a beauty all right," was the buyer's reply, "and she doesn't have to improve on nature a little bit, eh, Maggie?"

"She won't keep that color long in this store," sneered Miss Brady.

"She'll fade like all the rest of us, and it won't take long either."

"Miss Fairbanks," gasped Miss Jennings from behind the counter, "I can't stand up any longer. You will have to excuse me."

"Well, you do look sick, so I suppose you can go. But as it is only ten o'clock I shall have to call it a full day, Miss Jennings."

"Call it anything you like," whispered Miss Jennings hoa.r.s.ely; "only let me lie down, on the floor or anywhere."

Faith sprang down from her high perch without an instant of hesitation.

"Let me take her to the cloak-room, please, Miss Fairbanks," she begged.

"Miss Jennings is my friend--do, please, let me take her."

"Nonsense! Get back to your desk this instant, packer! If she is too sick to go alone one of the cash girls can take her. Come, hurry along; there are customers coming."

Faith gave a despairing sob as she climbed back to her seat. Miss Jennings was desperately ill--she was sure of it.

Suddenly it occurred to her what a really brave fellow Mr. Watkins was.

She had heard Mr. Forbes tell him to have Miss Jennings discharged, yet for two days he had disregarded the order.

That, and the picture of the young man in Miss Jennings' purse told Faith a story as plain as words could have done. The two were lovers, she was positive of it, she began to wonder if Mr. Watkins knew of his sweetheart's condition.

"Move faster there, packer!" called Miss Fairbanks crossly. "Can't you see the lady is waiting for her parcel while you are loitering?"

"Oh, I am in no hurry at all, madam," said a calm, lady-like voice. "Do not hurry the poor girl, please. She is probably tired."

"She has no right to be tired at this time in the morning"--Miss Fairbanks was trying to be polite, but her voice was still snappy.

"Are you never tired at this hour?" asked the lady, calmly. "I frequently wake tired, and from no especial reason. In this case I should think it surprising if she ever felt rested."

"Oh, they get used to it--we all do," said Miss Fairbanks, stammering.

"Or, at least, we must do our work just the same. We are not supposed to have feelings."

"Pray, tell me who are your judges, madam?" The lady spoke more sharply.

"Who dares to say that human beings who earn their living have no feelings?"

"Well, if they don't say so out loud that is what they think," replied the buyer. "Why, we'd be discharged before night if we were to complain of too much work. They want machines in these stores, and we are the nearest subst.i.tutes."

"Well, why don't you all rebel and force your employers to think differently? Mind, I don't tell you to do it. I am just asking for information."

"It would do no good; we would simply lose our places, and for each one of us there would be ten applicants to-morrow."

Miss Fairbanks spoke the truth, and she spoke it sadly.

For the second time Faith was inclined to think that the woman was not bad-hearted.

"The law should step in and regulate such matters," said the lady. "So much authority should not be allowed to a few human beings. A few arrests for manslaughter would not be amiss. I have just seen one woman who is being killed by this slavery, and there are plenty more behind these counters."

"But no jury could convict our employers, if that is what you mean."

Miss Fairbanks was gasping over the startling suggestion.

"I'm not so sure," said the lady thoughtfully. "If they could see what I have just seen they might possibly do it There is a young woman dying this minute down in that villainous cloak-room."

With a smothered groan Faith sprang swiftly to the floor.

"It is Mary--my friend," she cried out in agony. "No, Miss Fairbanks, you shall not stop me! I will go to Miss Jennings!"

CHAPTER XI.

A DEATH IN THE CLOAK-ROOM.