“Nobody can ask me to do any more, if they remember all I've got to attend to before summer,” said Trix, with an important air. “I've got three women hard at work, and want another, but everyone is so busy, and ask such abominable prices, that I'm in despair, and shall have to take hold myself, I'm afraid.”
“There's a chance for Jane,” thought Polly, but had n't courage “to speak out loud in meeting,” just then, and resolved to ask Trix for work, in private.
“Prices are high, but you forget how much more it costs to live now than it used to do. Mamma never allows us to beat down workwomen, but wishes us to pay them well, and economize in some other way, if we must,” said Emma Davenport, a quiet, bright-eyed girl, who was called “odd” among the young ladies, because she dressed simply, when her father was a millionaire.
“Just hear that girl talk about economy! I beg your pardon, she's some relation of yours, I believe!” said Belle, in a low tone.
“Very distant; but I'm proud of it; for with her, economy does n't mean scrimping in one place to make a show in another. If every one would follow the Davenports' example, workwomen would n't starve, or servants be such a trouble. Emma is the plainest dressed girl in the room, next to me, yet any one can see she is a true gentlewoman,” said Polly, warmly.
“And you are another,” answered Belle, who had always loved Polly, in her scatter-brained way.
“If they spent their wages properly, I should n't mind so much, but they think they must be as fine as anybody, and dress so well that it is hard to tell mistress from maid. Why our cook got a bonnet just like mine (the materials were cheaper, but the effect was the same), and had the impertinence to wear it before my face. I forbid it, and she left, of course, which made papa so cross he would n't give me the camel's hair shawl he promised this year.”
“It's perfectly shameful!” said Miss Perkins, as Trix paused out of breath. “Servants ought to be made to dress like servants, as they do abroad; then we should have no more trouble,” observed Miss Perkins, who had just made the grand tour, and had brought home a French maid.
“Perky don't practise as she preaches,” whispered Belle to Polly, as Miss P. became absorbed in the chat of her other neighbors. “She pays her chamber girl with old finery; and the other day, when Betsey was out parading in her missis's cast-off purple plush suit, Mr. Curtis thought she was mademoiselle, and bowed to her. He is as blind as a bat, but recognized the dress, and pulled off his hat to it in the most elegant style. Perky adores him, and was mad enough to beat Betsey when she told the story and giggled over it. Betsey is quite as stylish and ever so much prettier than Perky, and she knows it, which is an aggravation.”