The Trimmed Lamp | Page 8

Nance, what do you want to stick to that old store
for, and half starve and half dress yourself? I could get you a place in
the laundry right now if you'd come. It seems to me that you could
afford to be a little less stuck-up if you could make a good deal more
money."
"I don't think I'm stuck-up, Lou," said Nancy, "but I'd rather live on
half rations and stay where I am. I suppose I've got the habit. It's the
chance that I want. I don't expect to be always behind a counter. I'm
learning something new every day. I'm right up against refined and rich

people all the time--even if I do only wait on them; and I'm not missing
any pointers that I see passing around."
"Caught your millionaire yet?" asked Lou with her teasing laugh.
"I haven't selected one yet," answered Nancy. "I've been looking them
over."
"Goodness! the idea of picking over 'em! Don't you ever let one get by
you Nance--even if he's a few dollars shy. But of course you're
joking--millionaires don't think about working girls like us."
"It might be better for them if they did," said Nancy, with cool wisdom.
"Some of us could teach them how to take care of their money."
"If one was to speak to me," laughed Lou, "I know I'd have a duck- fit."
"That's because you don't know any. The only difference between
swells and other people is you have to watch 'em closer. Don't you
think that red silk lining is just a little bit too bright for that coat, Lou?"
Lou looked at the plain, dull olive jacket of her friend.
"Well, no I don't--but it may seem so beside that faded-looking thing
you've got on."
"This jacket," said Nancy, complacently, "has exactly the cut and fit of
one that Mrs. Van Alstyne Fisher was wearing the other day. The
material cost me $3.98. I suppose hers cost about $100. more."
"Oh, well," said Lou lightly, "it don't strike me as millionaire bait.
Shouldn't wonder if I catch one before you do, anyway."
Truly it would have taken a philosopher to decide upon the values of
the theories held by the two friends. Lou, lacking that certain pride and
fastidiousness that keeps stores and desks filled with girls working for
the barest living, thumped away gaily with her iron in the noisy and
stifling laundry. Her wages supported her even beyond the point of
comfort; so that her dress profited until sometimes she cast a sidelong

glance of impatience at the neat but inelegant apparel of Dan--Dan the
constant, the immutable, the undeviating.
As for Nancy, her case was one of tens of thousands. Silk and jewels
and laces and ornaments and the perfume and music of the fine world
of good-breeding and taste--these were made for woman; they are her
equitable portion. Let her keep near them if they are a part of life to her,
and if she will. She is no traitor to herself, as Esau was; for she keeps
he birthright and the pottage she earns is often very scant.
In this atmosphere Nancy belonged; and she throve in it and ate her
frugal meals and schemed over her cheap dresses with a determined
and contented mind. She already knew woman; and she was studying
man, the animal, both as to his habits and eligibility. Some day she
would bring down the game that she wanted; but she promised herself
it would be what seemed to her the biggest and the best, and nothing
smaller.
Thus she kept her lamp trimmed and burning to receive the bridegroom
when he should come.
But, another lesson she learned, perhaps unconsciously. Her standard of
values began to shift and change. Sometimes the dollar-mark grew
blurred in her mind's eye, and shaped itself into letters that spelled such
words as "truth" and "honor" and now and then just "kindness." Let us
make a likeness of one who hunts the moose or elk in some mighty
wood. He sees a little dell, mossy and embowered, where a rill trickles,
babbling to him of rest and comfort. At these times the spear of Nimrod
himself grows blunt.
So, Nancy wondered sometimes if Persian lamb was always quoted at
its market value by the hearts that it covered.
One Thursday evening Nancy left the store and turned across Sixth
Avenue westward to the laundry. She was expected to go with Lou and
Dan to a musical comedy.
Dan was just coming out of the laundry when she arrived. There was a

queer, strained look on his face.
"I thought I would drop around to see if they had heard from her," he
said.
"Heard from who?" asked Nancy. "Isn't Lou there?"
"I thought you knew," said