The Trimmed Lamp | Page 5

said Nancy, with uplifted nose. "I'll take my eight a
week and hall bedroom. I like to be among nice things and swell people.

And look what a chance I've got! Why, one of our glove girls married a
Pittsburg--steel maker, or blacksmith or something-- the other day
worth a million dollars. I'll catch a swell myself some time. I ain't
bragging on my looks or anything; but I'll take my chances where
there's big prizes offered. What show would a girl have in a laundry?"
"Why, that's where I met Dan," said Lou, triumphantly. "He came in for
his Sunday shirt and collars and saw me at the first board, ironing. We
all try to get to work at the first board. Ella Maginnis was sick that day,
and I had her place. He said he noticed any arms first, how round and
white they was. I had my sleeves rolled up. Some nice fellows come
into laundries. You can tell 'em by their bringing their clothes in suit
cases; and turning in the door sharp and sudden."
"How can you wear a waist like that, Lou?" said Nancy, gazing down at
the offending article with sweet scorn in her heavy-lidded eyes. "It
shows fierce taste."
"This waist?" cried Lou, with wide-eyed indignation. "Why, I paid $16.
for this waist. It's worth twenty-five. A woman left it to be laundered,
and never called for it. The boss sold it to me. It's got yards and yards
of hand embroidery on it. Better talk about that ugly, plain thing you've
got on."
"This ugly, plain thing," said Nancy, calmly, "was copied from one that
Mrs. Van Alstyne Fisher was wearing. The girls say her bill in the store
last year was $12,000. I made mine, myself. It cost me $1.50. Ten feet
away you couldn't tell it from hers."
"Oh, well," said Lou, good-naturedly, "if you want to starve and put on
airs, go ahead. But I'll take my job and good wages; and after hours
give me something as fancy and attractive to wear as I am able to buy."
But just then Dan came--a serious young man with a ready-made
necktie, who had escaped the city's brand of frivolity--an electrician
earning 30 dollars per week who looked upon Lou with the sad eyes of
Romeo, and thought her embroidered waist a web in which any fly
should delight to be caught.

"My friend, Mr. Owens--shake hands with Miss Danforth," said Lou.
"I'm mighty glad to know you, Miss Danforth," said Dan, with
outstretched hand. "I've heard Lou speak of you so often."
"Thanks," said Nancy, touching his fingers with the tips of her cool
ones, "I've heard her mention you--a few times."
Lou giggled.
"Did you get that handshake from Mrs. Van Alstyne Fisher, Nance?"
she asked.
"If I did, you can feel safe in copying it," said Nancy.
"Oh, I couldn't use it, at all. It's too stylish for me. It's intended to set
off diamond rings, that high shake is. Wait till I get a few and then I'll
try it."
"Learn it first," said Nancy wisely, "and you'll be more likely to get the
rings."
"Now, to settle this argument," said Dan, with his ready, cheerful smile,
"let me make a proposition. As I can't take both of you up to Tiffany's
and do the right thing, what do you say to a little vaudeville? I've got
the rickets. How about looking at stage diamonds since we can't shake
hands with the real sparklers?"
The faithful squire tools his place close to the curb; Lou next, a little
peacocky in her bright and pretty clothes; Nancy on the inside, slender,
and soberly clothed as the sparrow, but with the true Van Alstyne
Fisher walk--thus they set out for their evening's moderate diversion.
I do not suppose that many look upon a great department store as an
educational institution. But the one in which Nancy worked was
something like that to her. She was surrounded by beautiful things that
breathed of taste and refinement. If you live in an atmosphere of luxury,
luxury is yours whether your money pays for it, or another's.

The people she served were mostly women whose dress, manners, and
position in the social world were quoted as criterions. From them
Nancy began to take toll--the best from each according to her view.
From one she would copy and practice a gesture, from another an
eloquent lifting of an eyebrow, from others, a manner of walking, of
carrying a purse, of smiling, of greeting a friend, of addressing
"inferiors in station." From her best beloved model, Mrs. Van Alstyne
Fisher, she made requisition for that excellent thing, a soft, low voice
as clear as silver and as perfect in articulation as the notes of a