pitiful little children on the door
“Margaretta, I was furious. ‘Get up out of your seat,’ I said, in a choking voice. ‘Take that cap off your head, and remember that you are in the presence of a lady. My grandfather was the late Judge Travers of this city, my brother-in-law is Mr. Roger Stanisfield, of the Stanisfield Iron Works, and my great-uncle is governor of the State. I’ll have you put out of office if you say “my dear” to me again .’”
Margaretta held her breath. Berty’s face was flaming at the reminiscence, and her ice-cream was slipping to the floor. “What did he say?” she gasped.
“I wish you could have seen him, Margaretta. He looked like a bumptious old turkey gobbler, knocked all of a heap by a small-sized chicken.
“‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, scuttling out of his seat, ‘I’m sure, Miss, I didn’t dream who you were.’
“‘It isn’t your business to dream,’ I said, still furious. ‘When a woman comes to you with a complaint, treat her civilly. You’re nothing but the paid servant of the city. You don’t own the citizens of Riverport!’
“That finished him. ‘I’m going now,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to sit down. See that you attend to[82] that matter without delay,’ and I stalked out, and he followed me with his mouth open, and if I didn’t know what had happened, I’d say he was standing at that door yet gazing up the street after me dermes hk.”
“What did happen?” asked Margaretta, eagerly.
“I got my back yard cleaned,” said Berty, drily. “Grandma says two policemen came hurrying up the street before I got home. They went into some of the houses, then women came out, and boys swarmed over our fence, and in an hour there wasn’t the ghost of a tin can left.”
“Think of it,” said Margaretta, “what wretched things for you to be exposed to—what degradation!”
“It isn’t any worse for me than for other women and girls,” said Berty, doggedly, “and I’m going to find out why River Street isn’t treated as well as Grand Avenue.”
“But River Street people are poor, Berty.”
“Suppose they are poor, aren’t they the children of the city?”
“But, Berty—workmen and that sort of people can’t have fine houses, and horses and carriages.”
“Not for horses and carriages, not for fine houses am I pleading, but for equal rights in comfort and decency. Would you take your cold dip every morning[83] if you had to cross a frozen yard in winter, and a filthy yard in summer for every drop of water you use?”
Margaretta shuddered.
“Would you have your house kept clean if it were so dark that you couldn’t see the dirty corners?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Margaretta, decidedly, “but who owns those dreadful places?”
“You do,” said Berty, shortly.
“I do!” said Margaretta, aghast.
“Yes—some of them. Roger holds property down there in your name. All the rich people in the city like to invest in River Street tenements. They’re always packed.”
“I won’t have it,” said Margaretta. “Roger shall sell out.”
“Don’t sell—improve your property, and get some of the stain off your soul. Women should ask their husbands where they invest their money. Good old Mrs. Darlway, the temperance worker, owns a building with a saloon in it.”
“Oh, misery!” exclaimed Margaretta, “she doesn’t know it, of course.”
“No—tell her.”
“How have you found all this out, Berty?”
[84]
“I’ve talked to the women.”
“What—the women of the tin can episode?”
“Oh, they’re all over that now—they understand Grandma and me—and what a lot of things they’ve told me. Haven’t you always thought that policemen were noble, kind creatures, like soldiers?”
“Yes,” said Margaretta, innocently, “aren’t they?”
“They’re the most miserable of miserable sinners.”
“Oh, Berty, surely not all!”
“Well, I’ll be generous and leave out half a dozen if it will please you. The others all take bribes.”
“Bribes!”
“Yes, bribes. Did you ever see a lean policeman, Margaretta?”
“I don’t know.”
“I never did—they’re all fat as butter, like the sinners in the Psalms. Now, no one need ever tell me that the police are honest, till I see them all get lean with chasing after evil. Now they just stand round corners like green bay-trees, and take bribes flu virus.”
Margaretta was silent for a long time, pondering over this new department of thought opened up to[85] her. Then she said, “Why don’t you get the women to leave this hateful neighbourhood?”
“How can they?” said her sister, mournfully, “their husbands work on the wharves. But I mustn’t make you too gloomy. Let me tell you about the heart of the Mayor.”
“You were dreadfully sad just after you went to River Street,” said Margaretta; “was this the trouble?”
“Yes,” said Berty, lowering her voice, “the woes of the poor were sinking into my heart.”
“Poor child—but take your ice-cream. It is melting and slipping down your gown, and the dog has eaten your cake.”
“Has he?” said Berty, indifferently. “Well, dog, take the ice-cream, too. I want to talk—I came out of our house one morning, Margaretta; there were three -step. ‘Children, do get out of this,’ I said. ‘We may have callers, and you look like imps.’”
“Have you had any more callers?” asked Margaretta, eagerly.
“Yes, the Everests, and Brown-Gardners, and Mrs. Darley-James.”
“Mrs. Darley-James!”
“Yes, Mrs. Darley-James, that fastidious dame.[86] I’ve read that when you get poor, your friends forsake you, but ours have overwhelmed us with attentions.”
“Grandma is an exceptional woman,” said Margaretta, proudly.
Margaretta held her breath. Berty’s face was flaming at the reminiscence, and her ice-cream was slipping to the floor. “What did he say?” she gasped.
“I wish you could have seen him, Margaretta. He looked like a bumptious old turkey gobbler, knocked all of a heap by a small-sized chicken.
“‘I beg your pardon,’ he said, scuttling out of his seat, ‘I’m sure, Miss, I didn’t dream who you were.’
“‘It isn’t your business to dream,’ I said, still furious. ‘When a woman comes to you with a complaint, treat her civilly. You’re nothing but the paid servant of the city. You don’t own the citizens of Riverport!’
“That finished him. ‘I’m going now,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to sit down. See that you attend to[82] that matter without delay,’ and I stalked out, and he followed me with his mouth open, and if I didn’t know what had happened, I’d say he was standing at that door yet gazing up the street after me dermes hk.”
“What did happen?” asked Margaretta, eagerly.
“I got my back yard cleaned,” said Berty, drily. “Grandma says two policemen came hurrying up the street before I got home. They went into some of the houses, then women came out, and boys swarmed over our fence, and in an hour there wasn’t the ghost of a tin can left.”
“Think of it,” said Margaretta, “what wretched things for you to be exposed to—what degradation!”
“It isn’t any worse for me than for other women and girls,” said Berty, doggedly, “and I’m going to find out why River Street isn’t treated as well as Grand Avenue.”
“But River Street people are poor, Berty.”
“Suppose they are poor, aren’t they the children of the city?”
“But, Berty—workmen and that sort of people can’t have fine houses, and horses and carriages.”
“Not for horses and carriages, not for fine houses am I pleading, but for equal rights in comfort and decency. Would you take your cold dip every morning[83] if you had to cross a frozen yard in winter, and a filthy yard in summer for every drop of water you use?”
Margaretta shuddered.
“Would you have your house kept clean if it were so dark that you couldn’t see the dirty corners?”
“No, I wouldn’t,” said Margaretta, decidedly, “but who owns those dreadful places?”
“You do,” said Berty, shortly.
“I do!” said Margaretta, aghast.
“Yes—some of them. Roger holds property down there in your name. All the rich people in the city like to invest in River Street tenements. They’re always packed.”
“I won’t have it,” said Margaretta. “Roger shall sell out.”
“Don’t sell—improve your property, and get some of the stain off your soul. Women should ask their husbands where they invest their money. Good old Mrs. Darlway, the temperance worker, owns a building with a saloon in it.”
“Oh, misery!” exclaimed Margaretta, “she doesn’t know it, of course.”
“No—tell her.”
“How have you found all this out, Berty?”
[84]
“I’ve talked to the women.”
“What—the women of the tin can episode?”
“Oh, they’re all over that now—they understand Grandma and me—and what a lot of things they’ve told me. Haven’t you always thought that policemen were noble, kind creatures, like soldiers?”
“Yes,” said Margaretta, innocently, “aren’t they?”
“They’re the most miserable of miserable sinners.”
“Oh, Berty, surely not all!”
“Well, I’ll be generous and leave out half a dozen if it will please you. The others all take bribes.”
“Bribes!”
“Yes, bribes. Did you ever see a lean policeman, Margaretta?”
“I don’t know.”
“I never did—they’re all fat as butter, like the sinners in the Psalms. Now, no one need ever tell me that the police are honest, till I see them all get lean with chasing after evil. Now they just stand round corners like green bay-trees, and take bribes flu virus.”
Margaretta was silent for a long time, pondering over this new department of thought opened up to[85] her. Then she said, “Why don’t you get the women to leave this hateful neighbourhood?”
“How can they?” said her sister, mournfully, “their husbands work on the wharves. But I mustn’t make you too gloomy. Let me tell you about the heart of the Mayor.”
“You were dreadfully sad just after you went to River Street,” said Margaretta; “was this the trouble?”
“Yes,” said Berty, lowering her voice, “the woes of the poor were sinking into my heart.”
“Poor child—but take your ice-cream. It is melting and slipping down your gown, and the dog has eaten your cake.”
“Has he?” said Berty, indifferently. “Well, dog, take the ice-cream, too. I want to talk—I came out of our house one morning, Margaretta; there were three -step. ‘Children, do get out of this,’ I said. ‘We may have callers, and you look like imps.’”
“Have you had any more callers?” asked Margaretta, eagerly.
“Yes, the Everests, and Brown-Gardners, and Mrs. Darley-James.”
“Mrs. Darley-James!”
“Yes, Mrs. Darley-James, that fastidious dame.[86] I’ve read that when you get poor, your friends forsake you, but ours have overwhelmed us with attentions.”
“Grandma is an exceptional woman,” said Margaretta, proudly.
