Nobody's Girl Part 19

After all, it was better for her to have a place in this tiny room than be out in the woods and fields. If she had been able to endure the odor in Grain-of-Salt's shack, she would probably be able to bear it here.

"There's your bed," said Rosalie, pointing to one placed near the window.

What she called a bed was a straw mattress placed on four feet and held together by two boards. Instead of a pillow there was a sack.

"You know," said Rosalie, "this is fresh straw; they never give old straw to anyone to sleep on. In the hotels they do that sort of thing, but we don't here."

Although there were too many beds in the little room, there was not one chair.

"There are some nails on the walls," said Rosalie, in reply to Perrine's questioning look; "you can hang your clothes up there."

There were also some boxes and baskets under the bed. If the lodgers had any underwear they could make use of these, but as Perrine had only what she was wearing, the nail at the head of the bed was sufficient.

"They're all honest here," remarked Rosalie, "and if La Noyelle talks in the night it's 'cause she's been drinking; she's a chatterbox. Tomorrow you get up with the others. I'll tell you where you have to go to wash.

Good night."

"Good night, and thank you," replied Perrine.

She hurriedly undressed, thankful that she was alone and would not have to submit to the inquisitive regards of the other occupants of the room.

But when she was between the sheets she did not feel so comfortable as she had hoped, for they were very rough and hard. But then the ground had seemed very hard the first time she had slept on it, and she had quickly grown accustomed to it.

It was not long before the door was opened and a young girl about fifteen came in and commenced to get undressed. From time to time she glanced at Perrine, but without saying a word. As she was in her Sunday clothes, her disrobing took longer than usual, for she had to put away her best dress in a small box and hang her working clothes on the nail for the next day.

A second girl came in, then a third, then a fourth. There was a babble of tongues, all talking at the same time, each relating what had happened during the day. In the narrow s.p.a.ce between the beds they pulled out and pushed back their boxes or baskets, and with each effort came an outburst of impatience and furious upbraidings against the landlady.

"What a hole!"

"She'll be putting another bed in here soon."

"Sure! But I won't stay!"

"Where would yer go? It ain't no better nowhere else."

The complaining, mixed with a desultory chatter, continued. At length, however, when the two who had first arrived were in bed, a little order was established. Soon all the beds were occupied but one.

But even then the conversation did not cease. They had discussed the doings of the day just pa.s.sed, so now they went on to the next day, to the work at the factories, the quarrels, the doings of the heads of the concern--M. Vulfran Paindavoine and his nephews, whom they called "the kids," and the foreman, Talouel. They spoke of this man by name only once, but the names they called him bespoke better than words what they thought of him.

Perrine experienced a strange contradictory feeling which surprised her.

She wanted to hear everything, for this information might be of great importance to her, yet on the other hand she felt embarra.s.sed, almost ashamed, to listen to such talk.

Most of the talk was rather vague to Perrine, not knowing the persons to whom it applied, but she soon gathered that "Skinny", "Judas", and "Sneak" were all one and the same man, and that man was Talouel, the foreman. The factory hands evidently considered him a bully; they all hated him, yet feared him.

"Let's go to sleep," at last said one.

"Yes, why not?"

"La Noyelle hasn't come in yet."

"I saw her outside when I came in."

"How was she?"

"Full. She couldn't stand up."

"Ugh! d'ye think she can get upstairs?"

"Not sure about that."

"Suppose we lock the door?"

"Yes, and what a row she'd make!"

"Like last Sunday; maybe worse."

They groaned. At this moment the sound of heavy shambling footsteps was heard on the stairs.

"Here she is."

The steps stopped, then there was a fall, followed by a moan.

"She's fallen down!"

"Suppose she can't get up?"

"She'd sleep as well on the stairs as here."

"And we'd sleep better."

The moaning continued, interrupted by calls for help.

"Come, Laide," called out a thick voice; "give us a hand, my child."

But Laide did not move. After a time the calls ceased.

"She's gone to sleep. That's luck."

But the drunken girl had not gone to sleep at all; on the contrary, she was using every effort to get up the stairs again.

"Laide, come and give me a hand, child. Laide, Laide," she cried.

She evidently made no progress, for the calls still came from the bottom of the stairs, and became more and more persistent. Finally she began to cry.

"Little Laide, little Laide, come to me," she wailed. "Oh! oh! the stairs are slipping; where am I?"

A burst of laughter came from each bed.

"It's cause yer ain't come in yet, Laide; that's why yer don't come.

I'll go and find yer."