Sue, A Little Heroine | Page 9

the effects of drink.
Connie happened to be in. She had dressed herself with her usual
exquisite neatness. She always kept the place ship-shape. The hearth
was always tidily swept. She managed her father's earnings, which
were quite considerable, and the wretched man could have had good
food and a comfortable home, and been happy as the day was long, if
only the craze for drink had not seized him.
Connie was very fond of finery, and she was now trimming a pretty hat
to wear on the following Sunday. Not long ago she had made a new
friend, a girl at the warehouse of the name of Agnes Coppenger. Agnes
was older than Connie. She was the kind of girl who had a great
admiration for beauty, and when she saw that people turned to look at
pretty Connie with her sweet, refined face and delicate ways, she hoped
that by having such a pleasant companion she also might come in for

her share of admiration. She therefore began to make much of Connie.
She praised her beauty, and invited her to her own home. There Connie
made companions who were not nearly such desirable ones as Sue and
Giles.
She began to neglect Sue and Giles, and to spend more and more of her
time with Agnes.
On a certain day when the two girls were working over their
sewing-machines, the whir of the numerous machines filling the great
warehouse, Agnes turned to Connie.
"When we go out at morning break I 'ave a word to say to yer."
Connie's eyes brightened.
"You walk with me," whispered Agnes again.
An overseer came round. Talking was forbidden in the great room, and
the girls went on with their mechanical employment, turning out long
seam after long seam of delicate stitches. The fluff from the work
seemed to smother Connie that morning. She had inherited her mother's
delicacy. She coughed once or twice. There was a longing within her to
get away from this dismal, this unhealthy life. She felt somehow, down
deep in her heart, that she was meant for better things. The child was by
nature almost a poet. She could have worshiped a lovely flower. As to
the country, what her feelings would have been could she have seen it
almost baffles description.
Now, Sue, working steadily away at her machine a little farther down
the room, had none of these sensations. Provided that Sue could earn
enough money to keep Giles going, that was all she asked of life. She
was as matter-of-fact as a young girl could be; and as to pining for what
she had not got, it never once entered her head.
At twelve o'clock there was a break of half-an-hour. The machinists
were then turned out of the building. It did not matter what sort of day
it was, whether the sun shone with its summer intensity, or whether the

snow fell in thick flakes--whatever the condition of the outside world,
out all the working women had to go. None could skulk behind; all had
to seek the open air.
Connie coughed now as the bitter blast blew against her cheeks.
"Isn't it cold?" she said.
She expected to see Agnes by her side, but it was Sue she addressed.
"I've got a penny for pease-pudding to-day," said Sue. "Will you come
and have a slice, Connie? Or do yer want somethin' better? Your father,
Peter Harris, can let yer have more than a penny for yer dinner."
"Oh, yes," answered Connie; "'tain't the money--I 'aven't got not a bit of
happetite, not for nothing; but I want to say a word to Agnes
Coppenger, and I don't see her."
"Here I be," said Agnes, coming up at that moment. "Come right along,
Connie; I've got a treat for yer."
The last words were uttered in a low whisper, and Sue, finding she was
not wanted, went off in another direction. She gave little sighs as she
did so. What was wrong with pretty Connie, and why did she not go
with her? It had been her custom to slip her hand inside Sue's sturdy
arm. During the half-hour interval, the girls used to repair together to
the nearest cheap restaurant, there to secure what nourishing food their
means permitted. They used to chatter to one another, exchanging full
confidences, and loving each other very much.
But for some time now Connie had only thought of Agnes Coppenger,
and Sue felt out in the cold.
"Can't be helped," she said to herself; "but if I am not mistook, Agnes is
a bad un, and the less poor Connie sees of her the better."
Sue entered the restaurant, which was now packed full of factory girls,
and she asked eagerly for her penn'orth of pease-pudding.

Meanwhile