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Gertie Slayback was statistically down as a woman wage-earner; a typhoid case among the thousands of the Borough of Manhattan for 1901; and her twice-a-day share in the Subway fares collected in the present year of our Lord. She was a very atomic one of the city's four millions.
Edwin Brook spoke heartily, as he clapped his hat firmly on, preparatory to going out to make things secure against the expected storm. As if his voice had called up spirits from the "vasty deep," two horsemen suddenly appeared approaching at full speed. One of them was of unusual size. "Here they come just in time!" exclaimed Gertie, clapping her hands in excitement.
"Yes, yes! But never mind that. Where can I get a horse? I've got to be in Trumet by eight to-night sure." "Trumet? Why, that's where Gertie is, ain't it?" "Look a-here, Jake," broke in the livery-stable keeper. "I'll tell you how 'tis. Oh, it's all right, Sam! Jake knows the most of it; I told him. He can keep his mouth shut, and he don't like old crank Higgins any better'n you and me do.
"Give me something to eat and drink," he said. He looked, indeed, extraordinarily strained and tired, and sat back on the upturned box by the fireplace as if in exhaustion. He explained presently when Gertie had cooked another herring, and he had drunk a slop-basinful of tea, that he had walked fasting since breakfast, but he said nothing about the priest.
I'll make out a list of eligibles to-day and we'll give an 'At Home' next week." "But, Gertie the expense. It costs so dreadfully. We're not rich; that is, not very rich." "No matter. Everyone thinks we are. If they didn't, most of them would cut us dead to-morrow. We must pretend to be very rich. I'll make out the list. Mr. Holway will help me. He is coming to call this evening."
Gertie had only to ring, and the maid would come at once to help her to dress. Gertie said she had done this without assistance since the age of three. Apologies were made later for the brevity of the evening meal, but it seemed to her a dinner that could only be eaten by folk who had starved for weeks.
Gertie comin' down pretty soon, is she?" "Yes. She's changing her dress, because you asked her to. Why did you ask her? Why should she dress up just for you and me?" "Oh, just a notion of mine. I like that red dress of hers, anyway; the one with the fringe trimmin's along the upper riggin'." "That dress isn't red, it's pink." "I don't care.
"Good whisky," retorted Jim Langham, taking a small quantity of soda, "makes one feel like another man altogether." "In that case," said the old lady, "by all means have the drink. My dear," to Gertie, "give me my stick and we'll walk up to the house and have tea." "I'll come with you," remarked Jim Langham. "You will stay where you are," ordered Mrs. Douglass.
Gertie Naylor had invited Cynthia to help her in entertaining the subalterns, though Gertie was really quite equal to that task herself; there were only three of them, and if a pretty girl is not equal to three subalterns, well, what are we coming to in England? And, as it turned out, Miss Gertie had to deal with them all, sometimes collectively, sometimes one by one, practically unassisted.
One evening, seated at the counter there, and waiting for the return of Gertie, he gave a formal warning to the effect that any cigar presented to him was, in future, to be taken from the threepenny box. At Great Titchfield Street, Gertie tried to divert her mind from personal anxieties by throwing energy into work, with more than common resolution.
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