Greene County herald. (Leakesville, Miss.) 1898-current, 1907-03-08


have been intended that we women
were to get our own living. we nave
not the full equipment, as Alarle USED
to say. so all the time we fight against
Odds" 1t was the physical part Oh
her that was weary, nay, exhausted
beyond power to express. she was
only conscious of that dull feeling
of misery which is the heritage OF
the continually overweight. YET
never had her mental faculties been
more feyerishly acute; each detail OF
her life, possibility of her future,
stood out before her in startling
yividness. And before the prospect
she felt herself quail. She was thirty
three, and at the moment looked her
full age. She stood there by the table
In the sitting room of her little fiat,
IN the Embankment, her 1.-THE, ner-
Vous figure thrown into relief by the
yellow light in the room. 1t was
summer afternoon, and though the
yellow silk blinds were drawn closely
across the window, the room seem
ed full of a weird, searching light.
She had chosen yellow because she
had furnished her home in the dull
days, when the heart cried out for
the glow of sunshine. And she was
too poor always to make set OF
cooler color for summer use.
The little room was very plain;
cheapness stared at you from the
oolored walls, the furniture of bent
wood, the thin art square upon the
floor. But it was not an offensive
cheapness, nor was there any pre-
tence Things were plain, neat and
wholesome, proclaiming what they
were, not suggesting or striving to ap-
pear what they were not.
But there was no beauty. Just
above the mantel-piece was one pic
ture, little river scene, painted by
a true artist, who might have been
a great one had he lived. He had
been a friend of Joan's, in happier
circumstances they might have been
lovers. But the struggle for recog-
milton had killed him, and she was
left with. the picture and her memoir
les. It was the sheer loneliness of
her lot that had killed hope in her;
she knew that day that she must give
up, that.th limit of her endurance had
been reached.
She had very beautiful face, for
those who can appreciate the spirit
uelle beauty which is reflected from
within. And she was a lady; dress,
manner, air, everything proclaimed it,
Had she been made of coarser stuff
sha had doubtless Jared better on
the crowded way Her profession was
journalism, in which the finer sus-
capabilities do not count. Joan had
not yet, after five years of struggle,
mastered the art of putting her best
goods in the front window She was
at once too shrinking and too out
spoken; it was her misfortune al
ways to speak at the wrong time.
That day the last remnant of her
assured occupation had been taken
from her by the firm that employed
her, and given to another, whom she
knew to be less competent, though
much more pretentious. Disappoint-
ed, disheartened, on the verge Of
tears, she looked round hopelessly as
she spoke under her breath the
words of her confession: I'VE have
not the full equipment" A whole
world lay behind them, a world of
bitterness and disillusionment.
Presently, conscious of the sickly
faintness of physical exhaustion, she
went to her little kitchen, boiled her
kettle, and got herself a cup of tea.
She had an egg with it, and a slice
of bread and butter, after which she
felt better. When she had cleared
away, and made her little place the
picture of order it always was, she
sat down at the table to write.
1t was an important letter, a letter
which might alter the whole color of
her life. Small wonder that she ling
cred, and hesitated over it. tearing up
many sheets, altering every sentence.
weighing every word.
Although it was not so expressed
1t was practically an inquiry regard
ing new occupation, and the same
thought OF incompetency haunted her.
Her heart answered it even in the
same words; II haze not the full
equipment" She read and re-read if
and finally, wild a little gesture of
impatience, as if weary of the theme
and its treatment put it in an enye-
lope and addressed it. Yet had any
one opened and read it, they might
have wondered that it had taken so
long, or required such planning to
make it fit These were the words
written across the page, in the bean
tiful, nervous handwriting which had
been often admired:
Bellevue Mansions,
"Embankment Terrace. June q
Dear Mr.. Westcote: If YOU have
not forgotten our conversation of last
January, pray come and see me this
evening. l shall be at home from
now onwards
Yours faithfully,
Joan Dent"
When she had addressed and sealed
1t, she opened the door upon the land
ing and knocked at her next door
neighbours. 1t was opened to her by
small, bright-faced girl of twelve.
"Ah, there you are, PoHyI Is there
any one to mind the baby2 If not,
I'll mind him, if you will take this
note for me to Cornhill I will give
you the money. 1t viii not take You
more than an hour. Z
He's asleep, Hiss. I'd like to go.
If you'll come in and mind him Any
answer"
No, Polly, and I want you to go
quickly, this very moment, in case /
change my mind.'
The child nodded, not conscious of
anything grange IN the words
In five minutes she was out of the