A Daily Rate by Grace Livingston Hill

Author:Grace Livingston Hill [Hill, Grace Livingston]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-08-07T00:00:00+00:00

Even the greatest griefs

May be reliefs,

Could he but take them right, and in their ways.

Happy is he whose heart

Hath found the art

To turn his double pains to double praise.

Chapter 16

“IT’S my opinion,” said Molly Poppleton, standing with her arms akimbo and facing Miss Grant as she entered the kitchen one morning shortly after breakfast, “that them three-cent girls need ‘tendin’ to.” She set her lips firmly and then returned to the polishing of her range.

Miss Hannah went on with her work. She was rubbing pumpkin through a colander and reducing it to the velvety texture she always required in her pies. She waited calmly for Molly to go on with her reasons, as she knew she would soon. Molly finished the oven door and stood up again.

“Yes, they need ’tendin’ to bad. If you’d just go up to their room once you’d find out. There’s a stack of paper novils in their closet knee deep, an’ there’s pictures round that room of women from the-ay-tres, without much clo’es on, that are perfectly scandalous. Besides, they’ve got a picture of them two took in a tin type down to Atlantic City with bathing suits on, an’ two young fellers alongside of ’em without much on but a little underclo’es. They are grinning fit to kill, and look real silly. No decent girls would have a picture took like that, let alone keep it round in sight afterward.”

“Well, Molly, you know all girls have not been brought up alike,” said Miss Hannah, as she measured out the cinnamon and ginger. “Molly, bring me the big yellow bowl and the molasses jug.”

“I should hope not,” said Molly, as she put the jug down on the table with a thump, and went back to her range. “Not like them, anyway. You don’t know all. They have any amount of little pink and blue tickets lying round droppin’ out of pockets and the like, an’ I give that one they call Mamie one I picked up in the hall, thinkin’ it was something valuable, an’ she laughed an’ said it was no good, just an old the-ay-tre ticket, been used. ‘My land!’ says I, not being able to keep still. ‘If all them round your room is the-ay-tre tickets, you must’ve been an awful lot!’ Then she giggled an’ got red an’ says, ‘Yes, most every night now,’ an’ the other one, the one they call Carrie, she spoke up, and says she, ‘Yes, she’s got plenty of gentlemen friends, Molly, an’ so have I,’ an’ then they both laughed and went out. Now I s’pose it ain’t none of my business, but I must say them girls ought to be back with their mothers. They can’t be over fifteen a day, or sixteen anyway. They ought to be in bed every night by nine o’clock. They ain’t fit to sit at the same table with Miss Celia with their bangs and their dirty teeth and black finger nails. The fact is I’d like to give ’em both a good bath anyway.

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