The House of Mirth
pany”’—Lily seemed to watch her own fig- ure retreating down vistas of neutral-tinted dulness toa middle age like Grace Stepney’s. When she ceased toamuse Judy Trenor and her friends she would have to fall back on amusing Mrs. Peniston; whichever way she looked she saw only a future of servitude to the whims of others, never the possibility of asserting her own eager individuality.
A ring at the door-bell, sounding emphat- ically through the empty house, roused her suddenly to the extent of her boredom. It was as though all the weariness of the past months had culminated in the vacuity of that interminable evening. If only the ring meant a summons from the outer world—a token that she was still remembered and wanted!
After some delay a parlour-maid present- ed herself with the announcement that there was a person outside who was asking to see Miss Bart; and on Lily’s pressing for a more specific description, she added:
“It’s Mrs. Haffen, Miss; she wont say what she wants.”
Lily, to whom the name conveyed noth- ing, opened the door upon a woman in a battered bonnet, who stood firmly planted under the hall-light. The glare of the un- shaded gas shone familiarly on her pock- marked face and the reddish baldness visi- ble through thin strands of straw-coloured hair. Lily looked at the char-woman in surprise.
‘“‘Do you wish to see me ?”’ she asked.
“T should like to say a word to you, Miss.”” The tone was neither aggressive nor conciliatory: it revealed nothing of the speaker’s errand. Nevertheless, some pre- cautionary instinct warned Lily to withdraw beyond ear-shot of the hovering parlour- maid.
She signed to Mrs. Haffen to follow her into the drawing-room, and closed the door when they had entered.
“What is it that you wish ?’’ she enquired.
The char-woman, after the manner of her kind, stood with her arms folded in her shawl. Unwinding the latter, she produced a small parcel wrapped in dirty newspaper.
“T have something here that you might like to see, Miss Bart.”” Shespoke the name with an unpleasant emphasis, as though her knowing it made a part of her reason for being there. To Lily the intonation sound- ed like a threat.
477
“You have found something belonging to me ?”’ she asked, extending her hand.
Mrs. Haffen drew back. ‘Well, if it comes to that, I guess it’s mine as much as anybody’s,”’ she returned.
Lily looked at her perplexedly. She was sure, now, that her visitor’s manner con- veyed a threat; but, expert as she was in certain directions, there was nothing in her experience to prepare her for the exact significance of the present scene. She felt, however, that it must be ended as promptly as possible.
“T don’t understand; if this parcel is not mine, why have you asked for me ?”’
The woman was unabashed by the ques- tion. She was evidently prepared to an- swer it, but like all her class she had to goa long way back to make a beginning, and it was only after a pause that shereplied: ‘‘My husband was janitor to the Benedick till the first of the month; since then he can’t get nothing to do.”
Lily remained silent, and she continued: “Tt wasn’t no fault of our own, neither: the agent had another man he wanted the place for, and we was put out, bag and baggage, just tosuit hisfancy. I had a long sickness last winter, and an operation that ate up all we’d put by; and it’s hard for me and the children, Haffen being so long out of a job.”
After all, then, she had come only to ask Miss Bart to find a place for her husband; or, more probably, to seek the young lady’s intervention with Mrs. Peniston. Lily had such an air of always getting what she want- ed that she was used to being appealed to as an intermediary, and, relieved of her vague apprehension, she took refuge in the con- ventional formula.
“T am sorry you have been in trouble,” she said.
“Oh, that we have, Miss, and it’s on’y Just beginning. If on’y we’d’a got another situation—but the agent, he’s dead against us. It ain’t no fault of ours, neither, but ”
At this point Lily’s impatience overcame her. ‘If you have anything to say to me
’’ she interposed.
The woman’s resentment of the rebuff seemed to spur her lagging ideas.
“Yes, Miss; I’m coming to that,” she said. She paused again, with her eyes on Lily, and then continued, in a tone of
diffuse narrative: ‘‘When we was at the