Part 7 (2/2)
”I really don't think we ought to close,” she insisted, with firmness in her voice followed by persuasion in her features, and she brushed back her hair with a gesture of girlishness that could not be ineffective.
He hesitated, frowning. She went on: ”If it gets about that we're closing night after night, we're bound to lose a lot of customers. I can perfectly well stay here.”
”Yes! And be no use at all to-morrow!”
”I should be here to-morrow just the same. If other girls can do it, why can't I?” (A touch of harshness in the question.) ”Oh, Milly!” she exclaimed, neglecting to call Milly Miss Merrislate, according to the custom by which in talking to the princ.i.p.als everybody referred to everybody else as ”Miss.” ”Oh, Milly!”--Millicent appeared behind Mr.
Grig at the door and he nervously made way for her--”here's Mr. Grig wants to close again to-night! I'm sure we really oughtn't to. I've told Mr. Grig I'll stay--and be here to-morrow too. Don't you agree we mustn't close?”
Millicent was flattered by the frank appeal as an equal from one whom she was already with annoyance beginning to regard as a superior. From timidity in Mr. Grig's presence she looked down her too straight nose, but she nodded affirmatively her narrow head, and as soon as she had recovered from the disturbing novelty of deliberately opposing the policy of an employer she said to Lilian:
”I'll stay with you if you like. There's plenty to do, goodness knows!”
”You are a dear!” Lilian exclaimed, just as if they had been alone together in the room.
”Oh, well, have it as you like!” Mr. Grig rasped, and left, defeated.
”Is he vexed?” Milly demanded after he had gone.
”Of course not! He's very pleased, really. But he has to save his face.”
Milly gave Lilian a scarcely conscious glance of admiration, as a woman better versed than herself in the mysteries of men, and also as a woman of unsuspected courage. And she behaved like an angel through the whole industrious night--so much so that Lilian was nearly ready to admit to an uncharitable premature misjudgment of the girl.
”And now what are you going to do about keeping open?” inquired Mr.
Grig, with bland, grim triumph the next afternoon to the exhausted Lilian and the exhausted Millicent. ”I thought I'd let you have your own way last night. But you can't see any further than your noses, either of you. You're both dead.”
”I can easily stay up another night,” said Lilian desperately, but Millicent said nothing.
”No doubt!” Mr. Grig sneered. ”You look as if you could! And supposing you do, what about to-morrow night? The whole office is upset, and, of course, people must go and choose just this time to choke us with work!”
”Well, anyhow, we can't close,” Lilian stoutly insisted.
”No!” Mr. Grig unexpectedly agreed. ”Miss Merrislate, you know most about the large room. You'd better pick two of 'em out of there, and tell 'em they must stay and do the best they can by themselves. But that won't carry us through. _I_ certainly shan't sit up, and I won't have you two sitting up every second night in turn. There's only one thing to do. I must engage two new typists at once--that's clear. We may as well face the situation. Where do we get 'em from?”
But neither Lilian nor Milly knew just how Miss Grig was in the habit of finding recruits to the staff. Each of them had been taken on through private connexions. Gertie Jackson would probably have known how to proceed, but Gertie was down with influenza.
”I'll tell you what I shall do,” said Mr. Grig at last. ”I'll get an advertis.e.m.e.nt into to-morrow's _Daily Chronicle_. That ought to do the trick. This affair's got to be handled quickly. When the applicants come you'd better deal with 'em, Miss Share--in my room. I shan't be here to-morrow.”
He spoke scornfully, and would not listen to offers of help in the matter of the advertis.e.m.e.nt. He would see to it himself, and wanted no a.s.sistance, indeed objected to a.s.sistance as being merely troublesome.
The next day was the day of Miss Grig's operation, and the apprehension of it maddened this affectionate and cantankerous brother. Millicent left the small room to bestow upon two chosen members of the rabble in the large room the inexpressible glory of missing a night's sleep.
On the following morning, when Lilian, refreshed, arrived zealously at the office half an hour earlier than usual, she found three aspirants waiting to apply for the vacant posts. The advertis.e.m.e.nt had been drawn up and printed; the newspaper had been distributed and read, and the applicants, pitifully eager, had already begun to arrive from the ends of London. Sitting in Miss Grig's chair, Lilian nervously interviewed and examined them. One of the three gave her age as thirty-nine, and produced yellowed testimonials. By ten o'clock twenty-three suitors had come, and Lilian, frightened by her responsibilities, had impulsively engaged a couple, who took off hats and jackets and began to work at once. She had asked Millicent to approve of the final choice, but Millicent, intensely jealous and no longer comparable to even the lowest rank of angel, curtly declined.
”You're in charge,” Millicent said acidly. ”Don't you try to push it on to me, Miss Lilian Share.”
Aspirants continued to arrive. Lilian had the clever idea of sticking a notice on the outer door: ”All situations filled. No typists required.”
But aspirants continued to enter, and all of them averred positively that they had not seen the notice on the door. Lilian told a junior to paste four sheets of typing paper together, and she inscribed the notice on the big sheet in enormous characters. But aspirants continued to enter, and all of them averred positively that they had not seen the notice on the door. It was dreadful, it was appalling, because Lilian was saying to herself: ”I may be like them one day.” Millicent, on the other hand, disdained the entire procession, and seized the agreeable role of dismissing applicants as fast as they came.
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