“Not till after breakfast, my dear. Let
us have that in comfort I beg, for upon my soul we
shall need it,” panted Mr. Stuart, sinking into
a chair exhausted with the vigorous measures which
had quenched the conflagration.
Christie checked her untimely mirth, explained the
probable cause of the mischief, and penitently promised
to be more careful for the future.
Mr. Stuart would have pardoned her on the spot, but
Madame was inexorable, for she had so completely forgotten
her dignity that she felt it would be impossible ever
to recover it in the eyes of this disrespectful menial.
Therefore she dismissed her with a lecture that made
both mistress and maid glad to part.
She did not appear at breakfast, and after that meal
Mr. Stuart paid Christie her wages with a solemnity
which proved that he had taken a curtain lecture to
heart. There was a twinkle in his eye, however,
as he kindly added a recommendation, and after the
door closed behind him Christie was sure that he exploded
into a laugh at the recollection of his last night’s
performance.
This lightened her sense of disgrace very much, so,
leaving a part of her money to repair damages, she
packed up her dilapidated wardrobe, and, making Hepsey
promise to report progress from time to time, Christie
went back to Mrs. Flint’s to compose her mind
and be ready à la Micawber “for something to
turn up.”
Actress.
Feeling that she had all the world before her
where to choose, and that her next step ought to take
her up at least one round higher on the ladder she
was climbing, Christie decided not to try going out
to service again. She knew very well that she
would never live with Irish mates, and could not expect
to find another Hepsey. So she tried to get a
place as companion to an invalid, but failed to secure
the only situation of the sort that was offered her,
because she mildly objected to waiting on a nervous
cripple all day, and reading aloud half the night.
The old lady called har an “impertinent baggage,”
and Christie retired in great disgust, resolving not
to be a slave to anybody.
Things seldom turn out as we plan them, and after
much waiting and hoping for other work Christie at
last accepted about the only employment which had
not entered her mind.
Among the boarders at Mrs. Flint’s were an old
lady and her pretty daughter, both actresses at a
respectable theatre. Not stars by any means,
but good second-rate players, doing their work creditably
and earning an honest living. The mother had
been kind to Christie in offering advice, and sympathizing
with her disappointments. The daughter, a gay
little lass, had taken Christie to the theatre several
times, there to behold her in all the gauzy glories
that surround the nymphs of spectacular romance.
To Christie this was a great delight, for, though
she had pored over her father’s Shakespeare
till she knew many scenes by heart, she had never
seen a play till Lucy led her into what seemed an enchanted
world. Her interest and admiration pleased the
little actress, and sundry lifts when she was hurried
with her dresses made her grateful to Christie.
