<\/p>\n\n\n\n
All the members of the Gilliken Gang possessed the privilege which the London girl demands\u2014that of having their evenings for their very own. Some were engaged in a large mineral water factory in Albany Road; two walked over Blackfriars Bridge to the City every morning; the remainder did nothing of a definite character. Mord Em\u2019ly herself had vague ideas in regard to her future. She was content to keep free of the School Board inspector, to earn about two shillings on Saturday mornings by giving whiteness to doorsteps of villas in Camberwell, to worship Miss Gilliken, and to enjoy life with great thoroughness. Her mother left each morning at half-past seven, and Mord Em\u2019ly was mistress of No. 345 Pandora Buildings for the day. She was by no means a lazy young woman, and, feeling that she was responsible for No. 345, it gratified her to work hard; to scrub floors for the sheer luxury of scrubbing, to re-arrange the furniture simply for the sake of doing something difficult. Block C of Pandora Buildings, once its infants were dispatched to school, gave itself up to being dusted, and washed, and sluiced, and those of the women-folk who were not obliged to go out to earn their living worked with something of frenzy until their duties were accomplished, ever with the bright prospect of a gossip in front of them. Mord Em\u2019ly had, by great ingenuity, forced herself into one or two of these debating societies, and, being content to preserve silence, was allowed to remain, listening open-mouthed to revelations of life, and feeling sometimes, when the return of noisy children from school broke up the meetings, that she was, at least, forty years of age, and that the world had for her no secrets. Pandora Buildings, despite its bare passages and blank, asphalted yard and drafty balconies, all suggesting that it was a place where people were sent for some infraction of the law, was, nevertheless, for its inhabitants sufficiently cheerful, and there were very few of them who were not happy. To understand this fact, it was necessary to become an inhabitant in Pandora, and not merely to come down on a hurried visit, as lady philanthropists did, and sniff, and look sympathetic, and tell each other that it was all quite too dreadful. Nothing privately amused Pandora more than the visits of these people, and Mord Em\u2019ly gained much applause by her very faithful imitation of one of these visitors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, the poor, dear creatures!\u201d Mord Em’ly would look at the diverted women on the landing with half-closed eyes and a glance of condescension. \u201cHow do you do, my poor women? What do your poor husbands do for a living, pray? Dear, dear! what dreadful occupations, to be sure! I\u2019d really never heard of them before. And the poor, dear children\u2014I do<\/i> so hope you look after them. Our country’s future, you must remember, lies in their hands, and\u2014 This is my daughter, Lady Ella. She, too, is going to be so<\/i> interested in the poor. In fact, I may tell you that she is going to play the zither at a concert near here some evening.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAh, Mord Em\u2019ly!\u201d The women would laugh and wipe their eyes with aprons exhaustedly. \u201cYou can<\/i> take the toffs off to a T.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It appeared, on the return of Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother for dinner, that her vague remark on the previous Saturday night concerning a situation was not without some grounds. During one of the recent evening arguments with neighbours, No. 340, after listening to caustic references to the conduct of No. 340’s sister, had suggested ironically that Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother was a pretty woman to talk, and that, if she were so jolly clever, why in the world did she not look after Mord Em\u2019ly? Anybody else, said 340, would have got the girl a berth, and put her in the way of earning an honest living, instead of letting her roam about the streets, mixing up in the company of Heaven alone knew who. (In point of fact, No. 340 rather admired Mord Em\u2019ly, and would miss her more than anyone on the landing, but the argument was too good not to be used, and 340 made the most of it.) For answer, Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother said that 340 was an interfering old cat, and that for two pins\u2014 Nevertheless, Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother had considered the matter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBacon all right, mother?\u201d asked Mord Em\u2019ly. \u201cIt’s the streakiest rasher they’d got.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNever mind about the bacon,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother brusquely. \u201cYou just attend to what I\u2019ve got to tell you. Listenin\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFire away,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t let me ‘ave to say it all over again, like I sometimes do, because I\u2019ve got to get back to me work, and time’s money to me, as it ought to be to you at your age.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCut a long story short, why don’t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThe moment I\u2019ve gone,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother impressively, \u201cthe very moment, mind, that my back’s turned, you on with your hat, and go off to this address what I\u2019ve got written down ‘ere.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat to get?\u201d asked Mord Em\u2019ly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cA place as a servant, my gel; and when you get it, mind you keep it, and don’t let us ‘ave any of your nonsense.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWell, but,\u201d stammered Mord Em\u2019ly, \u201cI\u2019m all right as I am. What’s the necessity for making a change?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cDon\u2019t you ask questions,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother sharply. \u201cJust do as you’re told, or else you’ll come to a bad end. Let me come ‘ome to-night, miss, and find you ‘aven’t got that place, and you won’t ‘ear the last of it, I<\/i> can promise you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mord Em’ly took the slip of paper regretfully, and read the address: \u201cLucella Road, Peckham.\u201d She swallowed something in her throat as she thought of the Gilliken Gang.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd how’re you going to manage, mother?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI shall ‘ave a gel in sometimes to do the odd work,\u201d said Mord Em’ly’s mother, \u201cif you must know; when I go down for my two days’ holiday to Dorsetshire, I shall lock up the place. And every other Sunday you’ll get the afternoon off, and you can come ‘ome, and I’ll give you good advice and a cup of tea. If your poor father was alive he\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd\u2014and sha’n’t you miss me, mother?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhat of it?\u201d asked Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother fiercely. \u201cAin\u2019t I doing all this for your good? Wouldn’t your poor dear father do the same if he was alive? Miss you, indeed! Course I shall miss ye.\u201d It seemed here to occur to Mord Em\u2019ly’s mother that she was unbending too much, and it was necessary, therefore, to say something to cancel this effect. \u201cMiss ye more than I want ye.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mord Em\u2019ly combed her unruly hair into something like order, and ran, as soon as her mother had left, to Albany Road. It was of Miss Gilliken that she thought when in need of advice, and the present was one of those occasions that specially demanded counsel. The pavement in Albany Street was crowded with girls returning to their work in the mineral water manufactory; some of them wore clogs, and the street resounded with the clatter. Miss Gilliken, being signalled by Mord Em\u2019ly, left the ranks and crossed the road. She listened to the news with gravity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHo, ho!\u201d said Miss Gilliken darkly. \u201cThat’s the litest, is it? Deemestic service, aye? You’ll<\/i> be a jolly fine deemestic servant, you will, so ‘elp my<\/i> goodness.\u201d Miss Gilliken laughed ironically. \u201cYou\u2019ll ‘ave to wear a apron and a cap, and answer the door.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, but reely,\u201d said little Mord Em\u2019ly appealingly. \u201cWhat d’you think I’d best do?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt wouldn\u2019t take me<\/i> long to settle what I should do. I<\/i> should simply go off on me own, if it was me, and get a job in a ware’us’.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI tried that once and they said I didn’t look strong enough.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYour appearance is against you,\u201d said Miss Gilliken, glancing at herself in a shop window. \u201cMoreover, what I<\/i> should do and what I should advise anybody else to do is two very different things.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou know what mother is.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLook ‘ere,\u201d said Miss Gilliken suddenly, \u201ctell ye what. Give it a trial! Go down and try and get the situation\u2014for my part, I ‘ope you don’t get it\u2014but, at any rate, ‘ave a shy at it; and if they take you on, put in a week there, and find out how it answers. See?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut,\u201d argued Mord Em\u2019ly rather anxiously, \u201cI sha’n’t be able to come out with the rest of you a Saturday night, or any other night.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIt’s a bit rough, I admit; but we can’t ‘ave it all our own way in this world. You ‘ave to take the rough with the smooth, Mord Em’ly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mord Em\u2019ly dabbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI wouldn’t take on about it,\u201d said the other, with a gulp. She looked up at the clock, and moved off \u201cCheer up, old pal! It’ll all dry straight. I<\/i> sha’n’t forget ye.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTa-ta!\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly dolefully.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cKeep smilin\u2019,\u201d called Miss Gilliken from the opposite side of the road. The last of the crowd of girls were clattering, with great good spirits and noise, into the open gateway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIf I can,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She walked out into Camberwell Road, and found herself taking a new and special interest in the private houses, where maids, seated perilously on ledges, were cleaning windows. It depressed her to find how neatly and decorously attired they were; she foresaw that it would be one of the hardships of the future that she would have to reduce the fringe that nearly covered her forehead. At one house the servant was coming out to enjoy her afternoon’s holiday, and it cheered Mord Em\u2019ly slightly to notice that the young woman was drawing on, with an air of great nobility, gloves owning several buttons, and that she was accompanied by a fierce perfume of cheap lavender water. The servant being met by a youth in a brown tweed suit, who was smoking a cigar of similar colour, he lifted his brown bowler hat as the servant approached, and said humorously, \u201cCommong vous portez vous?\u201d whereupon the servant (also affecting to belong to another nation) replied with much point and smartness, \u201cOui!\u201d It occurred to Mord Em’ly that perhaps one day there might be somebody who would raise his hat to her, and she felt that once that were attained, ambition might well be graciously released. Her steps quickened, and she walked along to Peckham Rye so briskly, whistling as she went, that when she arrived at 18 Lucella Road her cheeks were flushed, and she looked much better than was usually the case. No. 18 was precisely like No. 17, and like No. 19, and like every other number in Lucella Road; the lace-curtained bow-windows, the venetian blinds half-way down, the row of yellow pots on the edge, the glimpse of oval mirrors and draped pianofortes within.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cIs this number ‘i’teen?\u201d asked Mord Em\u2019ly, panting.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNumber eighteen<\/i>,\u201d said the young lady at the door correctingly. \u201cYou shouldn’t say ‘i’teen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ve come after a place,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly; \u201cplace as servant. My mother told me to. I’m firteen.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo, no,\u201d said the young lady; \u201cnot firteen. Say thirteen. The word begins with th.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI know!\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cCome inside, and wipe your boots very<\/i> carefully,\u201d said the precise young lady, \u201cand wait in the hall until my sisters are ready to see you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhere’s the ‘all, then?\u201d asked Mord Em\u2019ly, with some curiosity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou’re in it now, my girl.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis a ‘all,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly contemptuously. \u201cThis is what I<\/i> call a passage.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She heard the sibilant whisper of women’s voices, and presently down the stairs came in procession three rather thin and severe-looking middle-aged ladies, preceded by the young sister who had received Mord Em\u2019ly. They looked at Mord Em\u2019ly with a distant air, and filed into the front room. Then, after an interval, the youngest sister came to the door, and beckoned her to come in.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThis, dears,\u201d said the youngest sister, \u201cis the little girl who has come after the place. She looks willing, and my idea is that we might take her for a month, at any rate. Her mother is a good worker.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI expect Letty is right,\u201d said one of the elder sisters. \u201cWhat is your name, my girl?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMord Em\u2019ly.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Name interpreted by the youngest sister.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, you must really learn to pronounce distinctly. You should say Maud, and then wait for a moment, and then say Em-ily.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAll very well,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly, \u201cif you’ve got plenty of time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAre you a hard worker, my girl?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cFairish, miss. I ain’t afraid of it, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI think we shall decide to call you Laura if you stop with us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWhaffor?\u201d demanded Mord Em\u2019ly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cWe always call our maids Laura,\u201d explained the eldest of the ladies complacently. \u201cIt’s a tradition in the family. And my youngest sister there, Miss Letitia, will look after you for the most part. My other sisters are engaged in\u2014er\u2014literature; I myself, if may say so without too much confidence, am responsible for\u201d\u2014here the eldest sister looked in a self-deprecatory manner at the toe of her slippers\u2014\u201cart.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI am sure,\u201d said the other sisters in a confused chorus, \u201cthat no one has a better right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cMy sister Fairlie,\u201d went on the eldest lady in a lecturing style, and pointing with her forefinger, \u201cwrites under the pen name of \u201cGeorge Willoughby, and has gained several prizes, some of them amounting to as much as one guinea. My sister Katherine pursues a different branch. Her specialit\u00e9<\/i>, to use a foreign expression, is the subject of epitaphs\u2014queer epitaphs, ancient epitaphs, pathetic epitaphs, singular epitaphs, amusing\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTalking about epitaphs,\u201d interrupted Mord Em\u2019ly, \u201chow much do I get a year for playing in this piece?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The offer made by the sisters was accepted by Mord Em\u2019ly with some doubt; the desire of the London-bred girl to haggle on each and every question impelled her to try for \u00a32 more than the amount suggested. If the sum had been \u00a380 a year instead of \u00a38, she would have taken up precisely the same attitude.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThere is another matter,\u201d said the eldest sister, after a whispered consultation with the other judges. \u201cWe don’t like the way you arrange your hair, Laura. We prefer that you should brush it right<\/i> back off the forehead.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAnd a pretty fright I shall look,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly indignantly. \u201cWhy not leave well alone I always ‘ave wore it like this\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cLetitia,\u201d said the eldest sister placidly, \u201csee that our requests are obeyed. We must return to our labours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The three rose and marched out of the room, and the youngest sister was alone with Mord Em\u2019ly. The youngest sister waited until the door was closed, and then turned to the small girl good-temperedly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYou mustn’t mind,\u201d she said. \u201cThey won’t interfere much.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cThey better hadn’t,\u201d declared Mord Em\u2019ly doggedly. \u201cJust because they wear their ‘air brushed back off the fore’ead, they think every body else must go Fifth of Novembering.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI rather fancy you’ll like it better that way after a while. Have you brought your box with you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cNo,\u201d she said curtly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh! You can send for it, perhaps?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cYes,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly, \u201cI can send for it, but I sha\u2019n\u2019t get it. I ain’t got a box yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI must write a note to your mother about that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI\u2019ll be off now,\u201d said Mord Em’ly. \u201cI\u2019ll get back ‘ome to Walworth.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cBut can’t you stay now?\u201d The youngest sister appeared anxious. \u201cI should so much prefer that you begin at once. A gentleman\u2014a friend of mine\u2014is coming to meet my sisters this evening for the first time, and I don’t want him to imagine for a moment that we don’t keep a maid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cOh, come on!\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly recklessly, unpinning her hat and unpinning her jacket. \u201cFind the cap and find the apern, and we’ll ‘ave a game at servants.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was in this way that Mord Em\u2019ly started on a new career; her fringe fixed back severely with curling-pins, she looked an exceptionally bright little woman. She entered with some zest into the plans for receiving the visitor to dinner, and when, at seven o’clock, that gentleman knocked at the door, she received him with great solemnity, and ushered him into the front room, announcing him in a voice somewhat louder than the one she had adopted during careful rehearsals in the kitchen.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For the youngest sister it was a busy and a trying evening; without the cordial assistance given by Mord Em\u2019ly she could never have passed through it with so much credit. The visitor, a stolid, silent, spectacled youth, gave his services by day to an insurance office in the city; and the youngest sister had to make him talk (in itself no mean task), to prevent her three sisters from talking too much, to cook the chops and mash the potatoes, to coach Mord Em\u2019ly in respect to the bringing in of plates, and all the time to appear cool and collected, as though she were really not troubling to do any work at all. At one or two moments, when the conversation appeared specially difficult, the youngest sister did appear to be slightly hysterical; but Mord Em\u2019ly growled a word of encouragement, and the youngest sister recovered, and applied herself again to the task.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
After dinner, when Mord Em\u2019ly brought in the coffee, which the youngest sister, hurrying into the kitchen, had made, she was interested to find that the visitor had suddenly commenced to talk with much volubility. By mere chance, whilst fishing anxiously with varied subjects as bait, the topic of his city work had been offered by the youngest sister, and the visitor, instantly rising to the offer, and taking off his spectacles, had started conversation. He explained the case of one Milton in the life department with much detail. Milton, it appeared, had an heroic and ingenious scheme of reform, consisting of a proposal to use blue ink instead of red for ruling lines, and the authorities were declining to listen to it; the office, it seemed, was rocked with the agony of this conflict. The visitor himself was on the side of blue, and so, it seemed, was the youngest sister, but the other three sisters were rather inclined to red, and the epitaph sister declared humorously that the youngest sister and the visitor always<\/i> agreed, and that it looked very suspicious, whereat they all laughed very much indeed, and Mord Em\u2019ly, who was listening near the door, laughed too, and restrained herself from shouting badinage<\/i> with great difficulty. Encouraged by this success, the visitor told a long story about another clerk, this time one in the guarantee department, who had been crossed in love, and this led to a spirited debate on the subject of the affections, in the course of which the art sister ventured the opinion that hearts were not mere playthings to be treated as idle toys, and that one’s motto should be, \u201cLove once, love always.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mord Em\u2019ly, on this, went back to the kitchen, feeling that the conversation was getting beyond her understanding, and had a little dance all to herself. Later, when the visitor had sung \u201cThe Bedouin’s Love Song,\u201d in rather a weak tenor voice, to the youngest sister’s accompaniment, Mord Em\u2019ly, being quite alone in the kitchen, affected to be a lady of great dignity and a certain amount of haughtiness receiving, with bored, languid air and half-closed eyes, a large number of guests, and making, as she shook hands high in the air, polite inquiries after their health. After this diversion she found a story in a Ladies’ Own Favourite<\/i>, left by her predecessor, and read the end, the middle, and the beginning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The youngest sister paid a breathless, flying visit to the kitchen to warn Mord Em\u2019ly that, when the visitor went, she was to be in evidence, as it were, at the rear of the hall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHow’s the evening going, miss?\u201d asked Mord Em\u2019ly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cTurned out much better than I expected, Laura,\u201d said the excited youngest sister. \u201cI was afraid at first it was going to fall flat.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cHe ain’t got what I call a tip-top voice,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly critically; \u201cbut his moral kerricter may be pretty right for all that. Why don’t he smoke?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cI declare I forgot that, Laura. You are<\/i> a clever girl to think of it. Of course, he’d like to smoke.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201cAll gents that are gents do,\u201d said Mord Em’ly. \u201cIf it was my party, I should offer him a drop of something, too. Just before he left. Don’t press it on him, but mention it in a casual way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mord Em\u2019ly’s advice was acted upon, with such excellent results that the insurance young man recalled several other capital stories about fellows in his office, and the prize-winning sister very nearly remembered a riddle, but, unfortunately, could only recall the answer, and not the question. When he went, the three sisters stood at the doorway of the front room, and the youngest sister helped the insurance young man with his overcoat (Mord Em’ly at the back, on the lowest stair, representing the domestics of the establishment), and the insurance man, in going, was so far removed from the stolid youth who had arrived as to declare sportively that he knew of an old superstition to the effect that it was unlucky not to kiss a lady when she had helped you on with your overcoat; thus placing the youngest sister in a most awkward and confusing predicament. The elder sister, with much presence of mind, waved Mord Em’ly to retire to the kitchen, but she declined to see the signal, and, after the insurance young man had said good-night to the three sisters, watched the young couple go out to the gate; then she ran upstairs to inspect the farewell through the venetians of the front bedroom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Mord Em\u2019ly’s own room was at the back of the others on the first floor. The window of the room looked north, and, as she gazed a long time in the direction of Walworth before she blew out her candle, she thought of Miss Gilliken and the other members of the gang. There had been a fine spirit of novelty about her first experience of domestic service that had pleasantly disappointed her, and she was astonished to find that any other life but that into which Miss Gilliken entered was possible. She found herself pitying the gang, and resolved that, in relating the incidents of this evening, she would improve them with a little exaggeration in order that the gang might be sufficiently impressed. Then she thought of an attitude that the gang might adopt in regard to her position. She flushed hotly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u201c\u2019Ope to goodness,\u201d said Mord Em\u2019ly, with apprehension, \u201cthey won\u2019t guy me about it!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n
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