AT the hotel again; she went to Burlingham's room, gathered his belongings--his suit, his well-worn, twice-tapped shoes, his one extra suit of underclothes, a soiled shirt, two dickeys and cuffs, his whisk broom, toothbrush, a box of blacking, the blacking brush.She made the package as compact as she could--it was still a formidable bundle both for size and weight--and carried it into her room.Then she rolled into a small parcel her own possessions--two blouses, an undervest, a pair of stockings, a nightgown--reminder of Bethlehem and her brief sip at the cup of success--a few toilet articles.With the two bundles she descended to the office.
"I came to say," she said calmly to the clerk, "that we have no money to pay what we owe.Mr.Burlingham is at the hospital--very sick with typhoid.Here is a dollar and eighty cents.You can have that, but I'd like to keep it, as it's all we've got."The clerk called the manager, and to him Susan repeated.She used almost the same words; she spoke in the same calm, monotonous way.When she finished, the manager, a small, brisk man with a large brisk beard, said:
"No.Keep the money.I'd like to ask you to stay on.But we run this place for a class of people who haven't much at best and keep wobbling back and forth across the line.If I broke my rule----"He made a furious gesture, looked at the girl angrily--holding her responsible for his being in a position where he must do violence to every decent instinct--"My God, miss, I've got a wife and children to look after.If I ran my hotel on sympathy, what'd become of them?""I wouldn't take anything I couldn't pay for," said Susan."As soon as I earn some money----""Don't worry about that," interrupted the manager.He saw now that he was dealing with one who would in no circumstances become troublesome; he went on in an easier tone: "You can stay till the house fills up.""Could you give me a place to wait on table and clean up rooms--or help cook?""No, I don't need anybody.The town's full of people out of work.You can't ask me to turn away----""Please--I didn't know," cried the girl.
"Anyhow, I couldn't give but twelve a month and board,"continued the manager."And the work--for a lady like you----"A lady! She dropped her gaze in confusion.If he knew about her birth!
"I'll do anything.I'm not a lady," said she."But I've got to have at least ten a week in cash.""No such place here." The manager was glad to find the fault of uppish ideas in this girl who was making it hard for him to be businesslike."No such place anywhere for a beginner.""I must have it," said the girl.
"I don't want to discourage you, but----" He was speaking less curtly, for her expression made him suspect why she was bent upon that particular amount."I hope you'll succeed.Only--don't be depressed if you're disappointed."She smiled gravely at him; he bowed, avoiding her eyes.She took up her bundles and went out into Walnut Street.He moved a few steps in obedience to an impulse to follow her, to give her counsel and warning, to offer to help her about the larger bundle.But he checked himself with the frown of his own not too prosperous affairs.
It was the hottest part of the day, and her way lay along unshaded streets.As she had eaten nothing since the night before, she felt faint.Her face was ghastly when she entered the office of the hospital and left Burlingham's parcel.The clerk at the desk told her that Burlingham was in the same condition--"and there'll be probably no change one way or the other for several days."She returned to the street, wandered aimlessly about.She knew she ought to eat something, but the idea of food revolted her.
She was fighting the temptation to go to the _Commercial_ office, Roderick Spenser's office.She had not a suspicion that his kindness might have been impulse, long since repented of, perhaps repented of as soon as he was away from her.She felt that if she went to him he would help her."But I mustn't do it," she said to herself."Not after what I did." No, she must not see him until she could pay him back.Also, and deeper, there was a feeling that there was a curse upon her; had not everyone who befriended her come to grief? She must not draw anyone else into trouble, must not tangle others in the meshes of her misfortunes.She did not reason this out, of course; but the feeling was not the less strong because the reasons for it were vague in her mind.And there was nothing vague about the resolve to which she finally came--that she would fight her battle herself.
Her unheeding wanderings led her after an hour or so to a big department store.Crowds of shoppers, mussy, hot, and cross, were pushing rudely in and out of the doors.She entered, approached a well-dressed, bareheaded old gentleman, whom she rightly placed as floorwalker, inquired of him:
"Where do they ask for work?"
She had been attracted to him because his was the one face within view not suggesting temper or at least bad humor.It was more than pleasant, it was benign.He inclined toward Susan with an air that invited confidence and application for balm for a wounded spirit.The instant the nature of her inquiry penetrated through his pose to the man himself, there was a swift change to lofty disdain--the familiar attitude of workers toward fellow-workers of what they regard as a lower class.Evidently he resented her having beguiled him by the false air of young lady into wasting upon her, mere servility like himself, a display reserved exclusively for patrons.It was Susan's first experience of this snobbishness; it at once humbled her into the dust.She had been put in her place, and that place was not among people worthy of civil treatment.A girl of his own class would have flashed at him, probably would have "jawed" him.
