Short Stories / Рассказы. О. Генри

but it’s got to be able to do something more than make a noise like a toy bank.”

      “The physiopathic ward for yours!” said the brown pompadour, walking away.

      These high ideas, if not ideals – Nancy continued to cultivate on $8 per week. She bivouacked on the trail of the great unknown “catch,” eating her dry bread and tightening her belt day by day. On her face was the faint, soldierly, sweet, grim smile of the preordained man-hunter. The store was her forest; and many times she raised her rifle at game that seemed broad-antlered and big; but always some deep unerring instinct – perhaps of the huntress, perhaps of the woman – made her hold her fire and take up the trail again.

      Lou flourished in the laundry. Out of her $18.50 per week she paid $6. for her room and board. The rest went mainly for clothes. Her opportunities for bettering her taste and manners were few compared with Nancy’s. In the steaming laundry there was nothing but work, work and her thoughts of the evening pleasures to come. Many costly and showy fabrics passed under her iron; and it may be that her growing fondness for dress was thus transmitted to her through the conducting metal.

      When the day’s work was over Dan awaited her outside, her faithful shadow in whatever light she stood.

      Sometimes he cast an honest and troubled glance at Lou’s clothes that increased in conspicuity rather than in style; but this was no disloyalty; he deprecated the attention they called to her in the streets.

      And Lou was no less faithful to her chum. There was a law that Nancy should go with them on whatsoever outings they might take. Dan bore the extra burden heartily and in good cheer. It might be said that Lou furnished the color, Nancy the tone, and Dan the weight of the distraction-seeking trio. The escort, in his neat but obviously ready-made suit, his ready-made tie and unfailing, genial, ready-made wit never startled or clashed. He was of that good kind that you are likely to forget while they are present, but remember distinctly after they are gone.

      To Nancy’s superior taste the flavor of these ready-made pleasures was sometimes a little bitter: but she was young; and youth is a gourmand, when it cannot be a gourmet.

      “Dan is always wanting me to marry him right away,” Lou told her once. “But why should I? I’m independent. I can do as I please with the money I earn; and he never would agree for me to keep on working afterward. And say, Nance, what do you want to stick to that old store for, and half starve and half dress yourself? I could get you a place in the laundry right now if you’d come. It seems to me that you could afford to be a little less stuck-up if you could make a good deal more money.”

      “I don’t think I’m stuck-up, Lou,” said Nancy, “but I’d rather live on half rations and stay where I am. I suppose I’ve got the habit. It’s the chance that I want. I don’t expect to be always behind a counter. I’m learning something new every day. I’m right up against refined and rich people all the time – even if I do only wait on them; and I’m not missing any pointers that I see passing around.”

      “Caught your millionaire yet?” asked Lou with her teasing laugh.

      “I haven’t selected one yet,” answered Nancy. “I’ve been looking them over.”

      “Goodness! the idea of picking over ’em! Don’t you ever let one get by you Nance – even if he’s a few dollars shy. But of course you’re joking – millionaires don’t think about working girls like us.”

      “It might be better for them if they did,” said Nancy, with cool wisdom. “Some of us could teach them how to take care of their money.”

      “If one was to speak to me,” laughed Lou, “I know I’d have a duck-fit.”

      “That’s because you don’t know any. The only difference between swells and other people is you have to watch ’em closer. Don’t you think that red silk lining is just a little bit too bright for that coat, Lou?”

      Lou looked at the plain, dull olive jacket of her friend.

      “Well, no I don’t – but it may seem so beside that faded-looking thing you’ve got on.”

      “This jacket,” said Nancy, complacently, “has exactly the cut and fit of one that Mrs Van Alstyne Fisher was wearing the other day. The material cost me $3.98. I suppose hers cost about $100 more.”

      “Oh, well,” said Lou lightly, “it don’t strike me as millionaire bait. Shouldn’t wonder if I catch one before you do, anyway.”

      Truly it would have taken a philosopher to decide upon the values of the theories held by the two friends. Lou, lacking that certain pride and fastidiousness that keeps stores and desks filled with girls working for the barest living, thumped away gaily with her iron in the noisy and stifling laundry. Her wages supported her even beyond the point of comfort; so that her dress profited until sometimes she cast a sidelong glance of impatience at the neat but inelegant apparel of Dan – Dan the constant, the immutable, the undeviating.

      As for Nancy, her case was one of tens of thousands. Silk and jewels and laces and ornaments and the perfume and music of the fine world of good-breeding and taste – these were made for woman; they are her equitable portion. Let her keep near them if they are a part of life to her, and if she will. She is no traitor to herself, as Esau was; for she keeps he birthright and the pottage she earns is often very scant.

      In this atmosphere Nancy belonged; and she throve in it and ate her frugal meals and schemed over her cheap dresses with a determined and contented mind. She already knew woman; and she was studying man, the animal, both as to his habits and eligibility. Some day she would bring down the game that she wanted; but she promised herself it would be what seemed to her the biggest and the best, and nothing smaller.

      Thus she kept her lamp trimmed and burning to receive the bridegroom when he should come.

      But, another lesson she learned, perhaps unconsciously. Her standard of values began to shift and change. Sometimes the dollar-mark grew blurred in her mind’s eye, and shaped itself into letters that spelled such words as “truth” and “honor” and now and then just “kindness.” Let us make a likeness of one who hunts the moose or elk in some mighty wood. He sees a little dell, mossy and embowered, where a rill trickles, babbling to him of rest and comfort. At these times the spear of Nimrod himself grows blunt.

      So, Nancy wondered sometimes if Persian lamb was always quoted at its market value by the hearts that it covered.

      One Thursday evening Nancy left the store and turned across Sixth Avenue westward to the laundry. She was expected to go with Lou and Dan to a musical comedy.

      Dan was just coming out of the laundry when she arrived. There was a queer, strained look on his face.

      “I thought I would drop around to see if they had heard from her,” he said.

      “Heard from who?” asked Nancy. “Isn’t Lou there?”

      “I thought you knew,” said Dan. “She hasn’t been here or at the house where she lived since Monday. She moved all her things from there. She told one of the girls in the laundry she might be going to Europe.”

      “Hasn’t anybody seen her anywhere?” asked Nancy.

      Dan looked at her with his jaws set grimly, and a steely gleam in his steady gray eyes.

      “They told me in the laundry,” he said, harshly, “that they saw her pass yesterday – in an automobile. With one of the millionaires, I suppose, that you and Lou were forever busying your brains about.”

      For the first time Nancy quailed before a man. She laid her hand that trembled slightly on Dan’s sleeve.

      “You’ve no right to say such a thing to me, Dan – as if I had anything to do with it!”

      “I didn’t mean it that way,” said Dan, softening. He fumbled in his vest pocket.

      “I’ve got the tickets for the show to-night,” he said, with a gallant show of lightness. “If you – ”

      Nancy admired pluck whenever she saw it.

      “I’ll go with you, Dan,” she said.

      Three