Beverly banner. [volume] (Beverly, N.J.) 1877-1964, 1890-02-15
AN uNsoLD BONNET.
Sad Story of an Every Day Happening In
the Large Cities.


the Large Cities.
1t was evening in Oxford street, Just
before the hour Of lamp lighting The
daylight colors had faded and the twi-
light softness had not yet begun, SO
that the street picture was printed in
unsoftened black and white Gas was
beginning to twinkle, however, in
some of the shop windows; and up
stairs in the millinery show room Of
Mr.. K a boy had Just come in with
a taper and had left bright illumina-
ton behind him. The light fell upon
two fgures-a customer, doubtful and
dissatisfied, and young woman in
black who stood before her, display
ing bonnet after bonnet
"These are quite new, rus'am; the
very last thing from Paris.
Eyes" said the customer, hesitat-
inglEi; -, ,
I am sure it would suit you.
II don't like a straw bonnet for
winter"
1--WE could make you one in velvet,
ma 'am"
Velvet spoils SO with the rain. Are
you quite sure those are all the felts
you have, that you showed me9"
''All in brown, ma'am. We could
get you one made any shape you like
to order"
''Oh, no; | could not order one
without seeing it, said the lady. Then
she took up one which she had looked
at already, poised and examined it,
and finally tried it on, and decided
for the second time that it would not
do. 1t really is very extraordinary
that you should not have one in
brown" she said in tone of annoy
ance. For q moment the girl did not
answer; she had grown paler, and her
eyebrows were drawn together with
an expression of anxiety and appre-
hension. Mr.. x, walking up and
down his range Of show rooms, had
again come into sight, and had paused,
looking in. WED get you one,
ma'am, | am sure, in two or three
days" she repeated.
Now it was the customer who did
not answer She began turning over
the pile of untrimmed bonnets, while
her pale attendant lowered about her,
throwing in propitiatory words. Mr..
K stood and looked in from the
wide doorway. She could see the
scowl on his face At last the custom
er, finally refusing to take any other
in place of the bonnet which she real
ly wanted, departed dissatisfied. The
giEl began, tremblingly, to put togeth-
ef the bonnets. Tears came to her
eyes. She had tried her best to sell,
and she dreaded the wrath of her mas
ter. He had been in bad temper all
day; why, oh why, must this thing
have happened just today9 Mr.. Z
moved away; she saw him go to the
cashiers desk in the next room. He
came back with paper and few
shillings, which he threw down an
grily before her.
You'll just sign that if you please,
miss"
1t was an account of the wages due
her. She looked up at him in rRute
appeal; the angry and overbearing
face was answer enough. She put her
name to the paper, and tear fell
on it.
Now, you can just pack up your
things and go this minute" said he,
roughly. 1--WE no place for a young
lady that can't sell a bonnet"
She gathered up the money and
went raeekly. She was timid girl,
with no gift either for complaints or
excuses, and for girls of that kind the
tyrants of this world have no mercy
She went up stairs to the bedroom
which she shared with two Others 1t
was bare, clean, depressing; about as
homelike as prison cell. She looked
round it, half blinded by her tears,
and wrung her hands, murmuring,
What shall l do2 Where shall l
go9"
The room was quite brightly lighted
now by the glare of the many lamps
in the street. She stood so for a min
ute, then wiped away her tears and
began packing and arranging her few
properties in her box When this was
done she must go forth into the even
ing and find herself shelter for the
night and for the morrow. To-mor-
row would begin again the familiar
continue who could guess how long2
And who could tell what character Mr.
K would give of here And she
had 30 shillings with which to face
the world Her tears began to fall
again as she locked her trunk and rose
from her knees. She was glad to hide
her face with her veil and to steal
away secretly, fearing to meet any
one, lest the farewell should break
down her courage.
So she passed out into the evening
and on to Oxford street, the STONY
hearted stepmother.
Mr.. x meanwhile was going
home, serene of conscience, to his wife
and daughters at Brixton, giving no
second thought to the incident of the
afternoon.
1t is a story that happens every day +;
and too often the stones of London, if
they could speak, the pavements of
Piccadilly, the balustrades of the
bridges could tell you how it ends
Pail Mall Gazette.