Part 14 (1/2)

”You forget the wear and tear of the brain,” said Madame.

”But we get that in our business.”

”Hus.h.!.+” whispered the other. ”He doesn't like hearing that referred to.”

Conversation during the meal was restricted to the subject of the production of pictures and their subsequent disposal; Madame showed great deference to the arguments of her husband, occasionally interposing a mild suggestion which he had no difficulty in knocking down. At moments of excited contention Madame's husband became inarticulate, and had to fall back upon the gestures of the studio, that conveyed nothing to the visitor.

”How much do you make a year?” she asked, when an opportunity came. He paused in his task of opening another bottle of stout, and regarded her with something of surprise.

”My good girl,” he replied, ”I don't estimate my results by pounds, s.h.i.+llings, and pence.”

”Do you earn a hundred in twelve months?”

”Wish I did,” confessed Madame's husband. ”In that case, I shouldn't have to be beholden to other people.”

”How would you manage if you weren't married?”

He looked at the mantelpiece, and inquired of his wife if the clock was indicating the correct time. Receiving the answer, Madame's husband became alarmed, declaring it a fortunate thing that he had remembered a highly important appointment. It represented, he said, the chance of a lifetime, and to miss it would be nothing short of madness; he bade Miss Higham good evening in a curt way, and Madame accompanied him to the front door. There they had a spirited discussion. Madame considered an allowance of half a crown would be ample; he said, in going, that his wife was a mean, miserable cat.

”I'm afraid, my dear, you shunted him off,” remarked Madame, coming back to the studio. ”You don't seem to know how to manage men, do you?”

”Had my suspicions of that before now.”

”Of course, they're very trying but”--helplessly--”I don't know.

Sometimes I wish I'd kept single, and then again at other times, when I've had a hard day of it, I feel glad I'm not coming home to empty rooms. Taking the rough with the smooth, I suppose most women think that any husband is better than no husband at all.”

”Rather than get hold of one who didn't earn his living,” declared Gertie with vehemence, ”I'd keep single all my life.”

”He did nearly sell a picture,” argued the other, ”once!”

They took easy-chairs, and Madame found a box of chocolates. Mr.

Jacks, it appeared, was not Madame's first love. Mr. Jacks's predecessor had been ordered out years ago to take part in a war that improved the receipts entered up in Hilbert's books; on the debit side, the loss of a good sweetheart had to be placed. Madame dried her eyes, and in less than half a minute the two were on the subject which absorbed their princ.i.p.al interests. Price of gold thread, difficulty with one of the home workers, questions of aiguillettes, sword belts, sashes, grenades; hopes that the King would shortly issue a new order concerning officers' uniforms. Madame said that, nowadays, profits were cut very close; she could remember, in her father's time, when, if there was not a balance at the end of the year of over a thousand pounds, serious anxiety ensued. Madame brought out a large alb.u.m to show pictures of gorgeous apparel that belonged to days before thrift became a hobby.

”Seems to me,” she said, without leading up to the remark, ”that Miss Rabbit is the weak link in our chain.” Gertie did not make any comment. ”I'm going to tell you something. I want to give her other work to do, and get you to take her place. It will amount to an extra ten s.h.i.+llings a week, Miss Higham.”

”Do you really mean it?”

”It's why I asked you to come here this evening. You see, you have improved so much this summer. Improved in style, speech, everything!”

”There's a reason for that!”

Gertie Higham walked up and down the studio with excitement in her eyes. She wanted to ask Madame how long the firm was likely to endure, but to do this might lead to the betrayal of confidence; meanwhile she fired inquiries, and Madame, eager to gain her approval of the suggestion, answered each one promptly. Bunny was not to be reduced in wages; only in position. One of the new duties would be to run about and see people; Madame's nerves were not quite all they used to be, and the hurried traffic of the street frightened her. Next to Madame, Gertie would be considered, so to speak, as head cook and bottle-washer. Gertie, collecting all this information, wondered how it would be possible to let Henry Dougla.s.s know that she was making important progress. Possibly it could be managed through Clarence Mills and Miss Loriner; she might meet him in London, at some unexpected moment.

”Do you object, Madame,” she asked, ”if I run off now, and tell aunt about it?”

”You accept the offer?”

”Like a shot!” answered Gertie.