# The Frobishers/Chapter 18

MR. MANGIN
A week—ten days passed, and Joan had dropped into her place, and worked with a good courage.
What fell to her to do was not particularly interesting, because not artistic. She had to paint in or enamel a certain number of flowers or leaves, all of the same pattern, and the payment was by the dozen.
A particular leaf, bud, blossom, or insect was priced, and had to be reproduced a thousand times. The work was mechanical, but it was a first step that might lead to something better. It at least taught her facility in manipulation, and already she saw in what she had erred when an amateur. Confidence she felt that in a short time, if put on really artistic work, she would be able to take a good position among the others, and turn out satisfactory work. She had not as yet realised that, for a woman, art work was closed against her.
Sibyll proved useless in the house. Her attempts at cooking were failures, and daily did she demonstrate her incapacity to make beds and clean rooms.
At home she had constantly been remarkable for the disorder in which she left her own apartment, and the amount of unnecessary work she made for the servants; and now that she was without attendants, the faculty of order did not manifest itself in her. Never in all her life having done anything to help another, she now proved incapable of even helping herself.
She had settled into gloomy indifference. Joan did not scold her sister, though her carelessness was sufficiently provoking.
Polly Myatt came in, whenever she could, to assist, and, for the sake of the elder sister, disregarded the ill-humour of the younger, and laughed away her blunders.
At length Sibyll broke out—
"I can stand this no longer. Let me go into the works and do something there. I was not born to be a household drudge. I daresay I could earn money at the bank; I can do nothing in the house. I believe an overall is really becoming; but I will not be lead-poisoned even to please you, Joan."
"I would not allow you to do anything that is dangerous; you know that," answered the elder. " I will speak about you to Mr. Mangin."
Accordingly Joan took Sibyll to the office, and asked the manager to be so good as to furnish her sister with employment.
Mr. Mangin looked Sibyll over in a manner sufficiently insolent to flush Joan's cheek; but he disarmed her resent by saying—
"I'll take her. What is her age?"
"Eighteen."
"And a strong girl?"
"Yes. But there is one stipulation, sir, I am obliged to make—that my sister be not employed in any of the departments where lead is in use."
"Lead, lead!" shouted Mr. Mangin, flaring up. "What nonsense is this about lead? Lead we all use—we cannot do without it. You cannot draw water from a well without the employment of lead piping to the pump. You cannot solder tinned fruit and meats and vegetables without lead. You cannot glaze your windows without white lead or putty, to hold the glass in place. The tumbler out of which you drink has lead in the composition of the glass. You cannot employ hot-water pipes and gas pipes, but red lead comes in for sealing the joints. It is nonsense. Lead is just one of the necessaries of life. You are a fool, and have been scared by fools. I will tell you what the facts are. Every girl who wants a holiday pretends that she has been lead-poisoned. The wenches gad about at night in wet and cold, when they should be at home. They catch a chill that settles on the chest—and it is lead again. I find fault with them, because idle and wasteful, and they cry out that I have poisoned them. I will hear nothing against the lead, Frobisher, and let me inform you that if you say anything more on this topic, the firm will endeavour to get along without your valuable aid and meddlesomeness. Lead! lead indeed!" He glared at her. "I can't say what goes on at other banks: there may be slovenliness there, there may be the use of a reprehensible amount of lead, there may be raw lead used where fitted would serve, but I am not answerable for them. In the small and struggling banks there are none of the niceties and precautions seen to in the large concerns. But in Fennings! there is not so much lead used in the whole concern in a twelvemonth as would hurt a fly. There! Get to your task; your sister shall go into the warehouse."
In the evening, on her return from the works, in bounced Polly Myatt with a stormy face. She planted herself with her arms folded, and her feet well apart, just inside the doorway.
"What is the matter, Polly?" asked Joan, in consternation.
"Matter! What do you mean by taking up with Cissie Averill? Haven't I been your friend, and faithful to you?"
"Yes indeed, dear Polly, and you are my friend still, I trust."
"No, I am not. You have chucked me over for Cissie. It's too bad."
"But, Polly, I have not cast you aside. You are as dear to me as ever—nay, you become dearer to me every day."
"Do I now?"
"I assure you it is so. Not a day passes but you show me some new kindness, do me some fresh service, and I should be the basest of girls not to feel this."
"Then why have you taken on Cissie?"
"Why, Polly, because my sister is going to bank, and we shall need someone to prepare our meals and look to our house."
"Ain't I next door?"
"That is true, and next door to my heart also; but I must not lay too much upon you."
"It is nothing. Did I ever cry out that it was too much? I've naught to do at home but look after things for father and mother, and that don't take a prodigious time. Between whiles I can attend to what is wanting here, and I like to do so—it just serves as an amusement."
"That may be the case, but I feel scruples in asking too much of you."
"Then you don't deserve to have me as your pal."
"There has been another motive that has had weight with me," said Joan gently. "Cissie has become leaded. She has got the blue band on her lips, and may fall ill any day. She is an orphan, and so am I. She is homeless, and so was I till I took No. 16. She is alone in the world, whereas I have my sister and you."
"Well, then?"
"I felt that her case was worse than mine—for she was ill and I am not. I am able to do something for her. What little has to be accomplished in this house will not hurt her, unless she becomes seriously affected. I considered that it was my duty to attempt to help her. Should she break down, then, indeed, I shall need all the assistance you can give me and her. So I may have to ask of you a great deal more than you will care to give."
"Try me!" said Polly, relaxing, and her face breaking into smiles. She half seated herself on the table, one foot hanging down, and resting half her weight on one hand. "Very well! I'll pass it over for this once. I know Cissie is leaded, and has no friends—and the Skrimagers talked of being shut of her. So your sister is took on at bank?"
"Yes, Mr. Mangin has accepted her."
"I knew he would."
"Are there many vacancies?"
"Oh, not that! but she is so pretty."
Joan looked disconcerted and alarmed. Presently she rallied and said, smiling—
"You pay me a poor compliment, Polly. He was very unwilling to take me on."
"Oh! you—that was different. He saw at a glance what you are. Anyone with half an eye can read your face. You are not one to be got over with smooth words. Give your sister a bit of advice. She might not care to take it from me. Say to her, 'Keep the table between you and Charlie Mangin.'"