"Lord," she said, "what"s up?"
Bella"s attention was attracted. She too was interested in her bovine way. Mr Stein"s att.i.tude was certainly unusual. He held a sheet of paper in one hand, his other hand clutching at his cheek so hard as to make one of his eyes protrude. Both his eyes were fixed on the sheet of paper, incredulous and horror-stricken.
"I say, Vic, what"s the matter with the little swine?" suddenly said Lottie, who had at length noticed him.
Victoria looked. Stein had not moved. For some seconds all the girls gazed spellbound at the frozen figure in the cashbox. The silence of tragedy was on them, a silence which arrests gesture and causes hearts to beat.
"Lord, I can"t stick this," whispered Cora, "there"s something wrong."
Quickly diving under the counter flap she ran towards the pay box where Stein still sat unmoving, as if petrified. The little group of girls watched her. Bella"s stertorous breathing was plainly heard.
Cora opened the gla.s.s door and seized Stein by the arm.
"What"s the matter, Mr Stein?" she said excitedly, "are you feeling queer?"
Stein started like a somnambulist suddenly awakened and looked at her stupidly, then at the motionless girls in the shop.
"Nein, nein, la.s.sen sie doch," he muttered.
"Mr Stein, Mr Stein," half-screamed Cora.
"Oh, get out, I"m all right, but the game"s up. He"s gone. The game"s up I tell up. The game"s up."
Cora looked at him round-eyed. Mr Stein"s idioms frightened her almost more than his German.
Stein was babbling, speaking louder and louder.
"Gone away, Burton. Bankrupt and got all the cash. . . . See? You get the sack. Starve. So do I and my vife. . . . Ach, ach, ach, ach. Mein Gott, Mein Gott, was solls. . . ."
Gertie watched from the counter with a heightened colour. Lottie and Victoria, side by side, had not moved. A curious chill had seized Victoria, stiffening her wrists and knees. Stein was talking quicker and quicker, with a voice that was not his.
"Ach, the d.a.m.ned scoundrel . . . the schweinehund . . . he knew the business was going to the dogs, ach, schweinehund, schweinehund. . . ."
He paused. Less savage his thoughts turned to his losses. "Two hundred shares he sold me. . . . I paid a premium . . . they vas to go to four . . . ach, ach, ach. . . . I"m in the cart."
Gertie sn.i.g.g.e.red gently. The idiom had swamped the tragedy. Stein looked round at the sound. His face had gone leaden; his greasy plastered hair was all awry.
"Vat you laughing at, gn?" he asked savagely, suddenly resuming his managerial tone.
"Take it we"re bust, ain"t we?" said Gertie, stepping forward jauntily.
Stein lifted, then dropped one hand.
"Yes," he said, "bust."
"Thank you for a week"s wages, Mr Stein," said Gertie, "and I"ll push off, if yer don"t mind."
Stein laughed harshly. With a theatrical movement he seized the cash drawer by the handle, drew it out and flung it on the floor. It was empty.
"Oh, that"s "ow it is," said Gertie. "You"re a fine gentleman, I don"t think. Bloomin" lot of skunks. What price that, mate?" she screamed addressing Bella, who still sat in her chair, her cheeks rising and falling like the sides of a cuttlefish. ""Ere"s a fine go. Fellers comes along and tikes in poor girls like me and you and steals the bread outer their mouths. I"ll "ave yer run in, yer b.l.o.o.d.y foreigner." She waved her fist in the man"s face. "For two pins," she screamed, "I"d smash yer fice, I"d. . . ."
"Chuck it, Gertie," said Lottie, suddenly taking her by the arm, "don"t you see he"s got nothing to do with it?"
"Oh, indeed, Miss Mealymouth," sneered Gertie, "what I want is my money . . . ."
"Leave him alone, Gertie," said Victoria, "you can"t kick a man when he"s down."
Gertie looked as if she were about to explode. Then the problem became too big for her. In her little c.o.c.kney brain the question was insolubly revolving: "Can you kick a man when he"s down. . .? Can you kick. . .?"
Mr Stein pa.s.sed his hand over his forehead. He was pulling himself together.
"Close de door, Cora," he commanded. "Now then, the company"s bankrupt, there"s nothing in the cashbox. You get the push. . . . I get the push."
His voice broke slightly. His face twitched. "You can go. Get another job." He looked at Gertie.
"Put down your address. I give it to the police. You get something for wages." He slowly turned away and sat down on a chair, his eyes fixed on the wall.
There was a repressed hubbub of talking. Then Gertie made the first move and went up to the change room. She came back a minute or two later in her long coat and large hat, carrying a parcel which none noticed as being rather large for a comb. It contained the company"s cap and ap.r.o.n which, thought she, she might as well save from the wreck.
Gertie shook hands with Cora. "See yer ter-night," she said airily, "same old place; "bye Miss Prodgitt, "ope "Force" "ll lift you out of this." She shook hands with Victoria, a trifle coldly, kissed Lottie, threw one last malevolent look at Stein"s back. The door closed behind her. She had pa.s.sed out of the backwater into the main stream.
Lottie, a little self consciously, pulled down the pink blinds, in token of mourning. The "Rosebud" hung broken on its stalk. Then, silently, she went up into the change room, followed by Cora; a pace behind came Victoria, all heavy with gloom. They dressed silently. Cora, without a word, kissed them both, collected her small possessions into a reticule, then shook hands with both and kissed them again. The door closed behind her. When Lottie and Victoria went down into the shop, Cora also had pa.s.sed into the main stream. Gladys had gone with her.
The two girls hesitated for a moment as to whether they should speak to Stein. It was almost dark, for the October light was too weak to filter through the thick pink blinds. Lottie went up to the dark figure.
"Cheer up," she said kindly, "it"s a long lane that has no turning."
Stein looked up uncomprehendingly, then sank his head into his hands.
As Lottie and Victoria turned once more, the front door open behind them, all they saw was Bella Prodgitt, lymphatic as ever, motionless on her chair, like a watcher over the figure of the man silently mourning his last hopes.
As they pa.s.sed into the street the fresh air quickened by the coming cold of winter, stung their blood to action. The autumn sunlight, pale like the faded gold of hair that age has silvered, threw faint shadows on the dry white pavements where little whirlwinds of dust chased and figured like swallows on the wing.
Lottie and Victoria walked quickly down the city streets. It was half-past eleven, a time when, the rush of the morning over, comparative emptiness awaits the coming of the midday crowds; every minute they were stopped by the blocks of drays and carriages which come in greater numbers in the road as men grow fewer on the pavements. The unaccustomed liberty of the hour did not strike them; for depression, a sense of impotence before fatality, was upon them. Indeed, they did not pause until they reached on the Embankment the spot where the two beautiful youths prepare to fasten on one another their grip of bronze. They sat down upon a seat and for a while remained silent.
"What are you going to do? Lottie?" asked Victoria.
"Look out for another job, of course," said Lottie.
"In the same line?" said Victoria.
"I"ll try that first," replied Lottie, "but you know I"m not particular.
There"s all sorts of shops. Nice soft little jobs at photographers, and manicuring showrooms, I don"t mind."
Victoria, with the leaden weight of former days pressing on her, envied Lottie"s calm optimism. She seemed so capable. But so far as she herself was concerned, she did not feel sure that the "other job" would so easily be found. Indeed the memory of her desperate hunt for work wrapped itself round her, cold as a shroud.
"But what if you can"t get one," she faltered.
"Oh, that"ll be all right," said Lottie, airily. "I can live with my married sister for a bit, but I"ll find a job somehow. That doesn"t worry me. What are you thinking of?"
"I don"t know," said Victoria slowly, "I must look out I suppose."