Winnie Childs The Shop Girl

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Amazon Music Stream millions of songs. Amazon Advertising Find, attract, and engage customers. Amazon Drive Cloud storage from Amazon. Alexa Actionable Analytics for the Web. AmazonGlobal Ship Orders Internationally. Amazon Inspire Digital Educational Resources. Amazon Rapids Fun stories for kids on the go. Of course Peter Rolls knew that the tall, incredibly lovely beings were not dryads and not dreams, although they wore low necks, and pearls and diamonds in their wonderful, waved hair, at eleven o'clock of a stormy morning on board an Atlantic liner.

Still, he was blessed if he could think what they were, and what they were doing in that room of mirrors without any furniture which he could recall, except a very large screen, a few chairs, and a sofa or two. The next best thing to the forbidden one--opening the door again to ask the beings point-blank whether they were pipe dreams or just mermaids--was to go on to the gymnasium and inquire there.

Toward this end young Mr. Rolls as he was respectfully called in a business house never mentioned by his sister immediately took steps. But taking steps was as far as he got. Suddenly it seemed a deed you could not do, to demand of an imitation-camel's attendant why five young ladies wore evening dress in the morning in a room three doors away. After all, why should a camel attendant dare to know anything about them? Perhaps they were merely amusing themselves and each other by trying on all their gladdest clothes.

There might be girls who would think this a good way to kill time in a storm. Yes, conceivably there might be such girls, just as there might be sea serpents; but, though Peter Rolls was too shy to have learned much about the female of his species, the explanation did not appeal to his reason. His mind would persist in making a mystery of the mirror-walled room with its five dazzling occupants, and even the bumpings of the imitation camel could not jerk out of his head speculations which played around the dryad door. Peter Rolls wondered whether he would like to ask his sister Ena if she knew the visions, or even if, being a woman, she could form any theory to account for them.

It would be interesting to see what she would say; but then, unless she were too seasick, she would probably laugh, and perhaps tell Lord Raygan. As for the visions themselves, only one had spirit enough left in her to be able to laugh at being thought a dryad or a mystery. She alone of the five would have known what "dryad" means. And she could always laugh, no matter how miserable or how sick she was.

That day she was very sick indeed. They were all very sick, but she could not help seeing, at her worst, that it was funny. I don't see anything funny about us! I should think not! Because of this combination, the Miss Child in question had named her the "Bruise. I'll try not to laugh again till the sea goes down," Miss Child apologized. It makes me think of sage and onions," quavered the tallest queen. And it was at this moment that Peter Rolls burst open the door. As he had observed, the waxlike figures moved, sat upright, and stared.

This sudden disturbance of brain balance made them all giddy, but the surprise of seeing a man, not a steward, at the door, was so great that for a moment or two it acted as a tonic. Nothing dreadful happened to any one of the five until after the smooth black head had been withdrawn and the door closed. I wonder what he wanted? The one in green was Miss Tyndale, the one in black and blue Miss Vedrine, all very becoming labels; and if they had Christian names of equal distinction to match, the alien known at home simply as "Win" had never heard them.

She had wonderful red hair, only a little darker at the roots, and long, straight black eyelashes.

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A few of these had come off on her cheeks, but they were not noticeable at a distance. I'd simply lie down and expire. But she was somehow different, rather subtly different, from them in all ways; not so elaborately refined, not so abnormally tall, not so startlingly picturesque. They all were, and somehow Miss Child seemed to be the one to blame.

Where have you lived? Oh, horrible to think of, unless you broke in two and death ended your troubles! I've heard that works wonderfully," said Win. They tried, but it worked disappointingly that time. Perhaps it was the ship's fault. It was impossible to time her antics with the most careful breathing. If I'd had one I shouldn't be here. But at the moment no one could be keyed to interest in anything except preparation for the next wave.

In the veranda cafe Peter Rolls was asking his sister Ena if she knew anything about five incredibly beautiful girls in evening dress shut up together in a room with walls made of mirrors. Ena Rolls was not in a mood to answer irrelevant questions, especially from a brother; but Lord Raygan and his sister were there, and pricked up their ears at the hint of a mystery.

She could not be cross and ask Peter kindly to go to the devil and not talk rot, as she would have done if the others had been somewhere else. But then, were it not for Lord Raygan and his sister and mother, Miss Rolls would be flat in her berth. Ena Rolls wanted him to be interested in her, and not in five preposterous persons in evening dress, so she replied promptly to Peter's question: We all had cards about their being on board and the hours of their parade to show the latest fashions. You saw the card, I suppose, Lady Eileen? It was a Providential chance to make their acquaintance and win their gratitude.

Nadine had taken the ship's nursery this trip for her show, and fitted it with wardrobes and mirror doors at immense expense. I'm afraid she won't get her money back if this storm lasts. Who could gaze at living models? He was the first earl Ena had ever met, but she prayed fervently that he might not be the last.

Peter somehow did not want those pale dryads sacrificed to make a Raygan holiday. He regretted having remarked on their beauty. Why shouldn't I be wanting to buy one of the dresses off their backs for my sister? You do, don't you, dear boy? Come along, Miss Rolls. What about you, Rolls? Will you guide us? She hoped that it might disagree with everybody, and then they would not want to go. Or Rags'll change his mind about the dress. Nadine's dresses are too heavenly. I've never seen any except on the stage, worn by wonderful, thin giantesses. All her gowns are named, you know, Rags: The shimmering sheath of silver and chiffon she wore to-day, as it happened, rejoiced in the name of "First Love.

She was being very careful of its virginal purity; but it occurred to her that unless the sea's passion died, the frock would soon have to be renamed "Second Love," or even "Slighted Affection," if not "Rejected Addresses. The result was alarming. Her swimming head warned her that if she did not instantly sit down again something too awful to think of in the presence of an earl would happen. I'm not very keen," she faintly explained, appealing to Peter with her eyes.

He contrived to understand without asking stupid questions, as some brothers would, and hurried the others off to the room of the mirrors. No longer was it a room of mystery; yet romance, once awakened, cannot be put to sleep in a minute, and Peter Rolls's heart beat with excitement or shyness, he was not sure which, as Lady Eileen O'Neill knocked at the dryad door. But when their tear-wet eyes beheld a girl and two men, some deep-down primordial pride of womanhood rushed to their rescue and, flowing through their veins, performed a miracle beyond the power of any patent remedy. The five forlorn girls became at need the five stately goddesses Mme.

Nadine paid them to be. Winifred Child, by the way, was not paid, for she was not a goddess by profession. But she got her passage free. It was for that she was goddessing. Miss Devereux was the leader, by virtue, not of extra age, no indeed! She apologized, with the most refined accent, for Mme. Nadine, who was "quite prostrated"; for Mme. Nadine's manageress, who was even worse; and for themselves. Miss Devereux and her attendant dryads turned their eyes to him.

They had fancied that he was the man who had burst in before and burst out again; now they were sure. If he had been a woman, they would have borne him a grudge for coming back and bringing companions worse than himself; but as he was a man, young, and not bad looking, they forgave him meekly. They forgave the other man for the same reason, and forgave the girl because she was with the men. If only they could behave themselves as young ladies should through this ordeal!

That was the effort on which they must concentrate their minds and other organs. She smiled at Lady Eileen, but not patronizingly, because a mysterious instinct told her that the plain, pleasant young girl in Irish tweed was a "swell. One exerted one's self to be charming to such people and to keep the male members of the party from looking at the other girls.

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She was a kind-hearted girl, but, after all, living models were living models until they were dead, and she wasn't going to lose the chance of getting a dreamy frock out of Rags! All the goddesses were on their mettle and their feet now, though swaying like tall lilies in a high wind and occasionally bracing themselves against mirrors, while Lady Eileen was in the biggest chair, with Raygan and Peter Rolls standing behind her. The men also were offered chairs by Miss Vedrine with a lovely play of eyelashes, but refused them: No doubt you know it is Mme.

Nadine's custom to name her inspirations. Come here, if you please, Miss Child! This is 'First Love. He might have meant the wearer or the dress. Peter Rolls flashed a gimlet glance his way to see which. He felt uncomfortably responsible for the manners of the visitors and the feelings of the visited. But the face of Rags was grave, and no offence could be taken. Peter Rolls withdrew the glance, though not before Winifred Child had it intercepted and interpreted. Her eyes looked miles away.

Peter Rolls wondered to what land she had gone. The girl appeared to be gazing over his head; but, as a matter of fact, she could see him perfectly. He had black hair and blue eyes, shrewd perhaps, yet they might be kind and merry; just now they looked worried. She thought him not handsome, but tanned and thin she detested fat men and somehow nice.

Winnie Childs, the Shop Girl

Win wondered if she were taller than he. She hated being taller than men, though she owed her present engagement to her height and length of limb. Miss Devereux respectfully argued that appearances were deceitful. Their dull days had been dimly lightened by gossip on the ship, brought to them by a stewardess from Lord Raygan's native isle, who knew all about him: Also that a rich young American and his sister had given up their suite to the ladies. This American was said to be of no birth, the son of some big shopkeeper, and far, far outside even the fringe of the Four Hundred; therefore the tallest dryads did their best eyelash work for Lord Raygan.

They were born British, hailing from Brixton or other suburban health resorts, and now they knew he was a "lord" the nickname of "Rags," which had sickened them at first, seemed interesting and intimate as a domestic anecdote about royalty. Rags consented to buy the dress for his sister if it fitted and didn't cost a million pounds.

The dryads thought this adorably generous, for the stewardess, who knew all about Lord Raygan, said that the "family had become impoverished; they were not what they had once been except in name, which was of the best and oldest in Ireland. When the sale was settled Miss Devereux turned to Peter Rolls. Is she tall or short?

I must ask my sister about the dress. She could hardly wait to try "First Love. But she said no, she didn't want one. This would have seemed to settle the matter, and did for Lord Raygan, who sat down beside her, abandoning further thought of the dryads. Peter, however, returned in due course to the room of the mirrors, because Miss Child could not be allowed to get into the "Young Moon" in such weather for nothing. She was in it when he arrived. And pluck, mingled with excitement, having had a truly bracing effect on the girls, in the absence of the peer they were nice to the plebeian.

The girl in the "Young Moon," to be sure, had scarcely anything to say, but she had a peculiarly fascinating way of not saying it. By the time Mr. Rolls had bought the "Moon" for his sister, he had become quite friendly with the other dryads, on the strength of a few simple jokes about green cheese and blue moons and never having dreamed he could obtain one by crying for it. But the balm's a good preventive. Did you never hear of it? I don't need it myself, but I know it's all right, because it's making my father a fortune. But he named it and he sells it.

It's the men who name things and sell things, not the ones who invent them, that get the money. What the ship does now? Or my name, either, if you'd rather not, especially as only my sister spells it with an 'e.

Winnie Childs, the Shop Girl by A. M. Williamson and C. N. Williamson - Free Ebook

The barber has no end of bottles. I'll go and buy you one now. Back in ten minutes. This was the "Yielding Heart. She isn't a bit like the rest of us. Clients wouldn't stand being grinned at by models. I laugh at the world," the model defended herself. Suddenly it flashed a smile at him. If he guessed right, the rest wasn't as easy as she thought. Yet the words made him wish that he could give the girl who laughed--the girl who was not to be a "permanence" with Nadine--more than a teaspoonful of balm. The medicine--or something else--sustained them marvellously. And it occurred to Peter that they would make a magnificent advertisement, if there were any way of using them--the kind of advertisement his father loved.

It was well that Peter senior was not on board, or he would certainly propose a new feature for the balm department: But the dryads were previously engaged by the prostrate Nadine--all except one. When they were sufficiently restored to take an interest, Peter smuggled grapefruit, chocolates, and novels into the nursery.

The novels his sister had brought with her to kill time during the voyage; but as it happened, she was killing it with Lord Raygan instead and never missed the books. Nadine had been obliged to take first-class tickets for her models; otherwise the rules of the ship would not have allowed them past the barrier, even in the pursuit of business.

But they sardined in one cabin, near the bow, on the deepest down deck allotted to first-classhood, and their private lives were scarcely more enjoyable than the professional. They were, to be sure, theoretically able to take exercise at certain hours, weather permitting; but weather did not permit, and four of the dryads, when free, sought distraction in lying down rather than walking.

It was only the fifth who would not take the weather's "no" for an answer. She had a mackintosh, and with her head looking very small and neat, wound in a brown veil the colour of her hair, she joined the brigade of the strong men and women who defied the winds by night. From eight to ten she staggered and slid up and down the wet length of the least-frequented deck, or flopped and gasped joyously for a few minutes in an unclaimed chair.

Being "not a bit like the rest" of her sister dryads, she refrained from mentioning this habit to Mr. Rolls, whose prowling place was on higher decks. Not that she was still what he would have called "standoffish" with him. That would have been silly and Victorian after the grapefruit and chocolates and novels, to say nothing of balm by the bottleful. The last dress she had worn on the first day of their acquaintance, the "Yielding Heart," had to a certain extent prophesied her attitude with the one man who knocked at the dryad door.

Miss Child not only thought Mr. Rolls "might be rather nice," but was almost sure he was. She was nice to him, too, in dryad land, when he paid his visits to the sisterhood, but she did not "belong on his deck. It was one night when a young playwright who had seized on him as prey wished to find a quiet place to be eloquent about the plot. The playwright noticed this, but was too much interested in himself and the hope of securing a capitalist to care.

In sketching out his comedy he was blind to any other possibilities of drama, and so did not see Peter's eagerness to get rid of him. He was even pleased when, after a few compliments, Rolls junior said: I fix things in my memory that way. And maybe when I've got it straight in my head I'll--er--mention it to a man I know. But it was a first act which was engaging Peter Rolls's attention, and he, though the only male character in it by choice , had to learn his part as he went on.

The play began by his joining the leading lady. This has been done before, but seldom with such a lurch and on such sloping boards.

Winnie Childs, the Shop Girl by A. M. Williamson and C. N. Williamson

It would have been a mockery to say "good evening" on a night so vile, and Mr. Rolls began by asking Miss Child if he might walk with her. In another state of existence. Then he skipped at least two speeches ahead, whither his thoughts had flown. Honestly, I don't want to intrude or be curious. But you're so different from the others. That's why I have to be so painfully sweet. I got the engagement only by a few extra inches. Luckily it isn't the face matters so much," she chattered on. But it's legs; their being long; Mme.

Nadine engages on that and your figure being right for the dresses of the year. So many pretty girls come in short or odd lengths, you find, when they have to be measured by the yard, at bargain price. It gives me such a funny point of view. Please don't keep trying to turn the subject.

Unless you think I have no business seizing the first chance when I find you alone, to" "It isn't that," said Win. Just the usual sort of thing. Nadine might be furious if she were spoken of as my chaperon; but she is, all the same. Not that an emigrant needs a chaperon. And she doesn't want it. I shall annex it. I couldn't take it! But not the ones Miss Devereux says are pretty. Look here, Miss Child, another thing she says is that you are not with Nadine as a permanence.

What does that mean, if you don't much mind my asking? I'm not going to be discharged. I was engaged only for the voyage, to take the place of a prettier girl with still longer legs who fell through at the last moment--literally. She stepped into one of those gas-hole places in the street. And I stepped into her shoes--lucky shoes! I hope not for nothing. I hope it is to make my fortune. Why, I've heard that everybody in America is ready to be a friend to lonely strangers! Couldn't you be serious for just a minute? You know, I feel quite well acquainted with you--and the others, of course.

That's the kind of thing they're fit for. I don't worry about them, and I shan't worry about you, either, if you tell me you have friends or know what you are going to do when you land. My people thought my wanting to come showed 'my wild spirit,' so I'm anxious to prove as soon as I can--not to them any more, but to myself--that I can live my own life in a new world without coming to grief. As I said, my native woods are far behind, and most of the trees are cut down. Not a dryad of the true dryad family left, and this one is practically forgotten already.

Her niche was all grown over with new bark long ago, so it was more than time she ceased to haunt the place. When I was fourteen--not old enough to be of much use to my father and the baby brother. So my father had to get some one to be a kind of housekeeper and superior nurse. I don't look like a clergyman's daughter, perhaps--and he thought I didn't behave like one, especially after the housekeeper came.

She's the kind who calls herself 'a lady housekeeper. She and I had rows--and that upset father. He didn't want to get rid of her because she managed things splendidly--him and the baby and the vicarage--and influential old ladies said she 'filled a difficult position satisfactorily. I went to boarding-school. After the first year I didn't go home even for the holidays. Often I visited--girls were nice to me. But I didn't make the most of my time--I'm furious with myself for that now. I learned nothing--nothing, really, except the things I wanted to learn.

And those are always the ones that are least useful. You have the Balm of Gilead. But--we all have our own trouble. Mine's not living up to my principles, or even knowing exactly what they are--being all in a turmoil. But it's yours I want to talk about. And I've just broken through my wall. I could have done it sooner and better if I'd learned more difficult things, that's all. I'd had no training except for my voice. I thought you sounded as if you had a voice! But that was another of my mistakes. I spent most of mine before I found out. You see, my mother left a little. It wasn't to come to me till I was twenty-one, but all sorts of things happened.

My father kept me at school till a year and a half ago because he didn't know what to do with me.

Then my little brother died. I ought to have cared more, but I hardly knew him. I don't see how he could! I believe she suggested it to him and said she must go away, to make him think of marrying her; but all he did was to send for me. I stood it for six months. It was horrid for all three. I dare say I was to blame.

I had a scene with father, and told him I'd made up my mind to go to London for singing lessons so I could support myself: I couldn't live at home. That forced the situation! Before any one--except the 'lady housekeeper'--knew quite what was happening, father had asked her to be his wife--or she'd asked him. I went before the wedding. I'd worshipped my mother! And--but that's all the story. He didn't approve, on principle, but he would have had no peace with me at home, and he likes peace better than anything.

I had to promise I wouldn't go into musical comedy. That makes me laugh now! But I thought then I'd only to ask and to have. I took lessons of a man who'd been a celebrated tenor. He must have known that my voice was nothing, really, but he buoyed me up. I suppose they're all like that. He'd often said he would when the right time came. Apparently it hadn't come.

He made the excuse that I ought to have stayed with him longer. It would hurt his reputation to launch a pupil too soon. So I had to try to launch myself. And it didn't work. One manager of opera companies on whom I forced myself tested my voice and said it wasn't strong enough--only a twilight voice for a drawing-room, he called it.

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I was broken up--just at first. I'm not a militant; and I've not been a housemaid yet, though I may be, if New York isn't kinder to me than London. She says there are heaps more chances as well as heaps more room for us in that country than there are at home. Only" "'Only' is as bad a word as 'but. Maud Ellis says they're both splendid men and interested in women's progress. Something good ought to come from one or the other.

I'm not one bit afraid. I feel boiling with courage--except when the ship pitches and rolls at the same time. You're bound to make good, of course. I wouldn't discourage you for the world. All I meant to say was that I'd like you to think of me as a friend. I don't want to lose sight of you when we land.

I might be able to help in some way or other or--my family might. Before we get off the ship I'll introduce you and my sister to each other. You're very kind," the banished dryad said for the third or fourth time. She wouldn't" "Yes, she would," insisted Peter. It is not safe for a brother to judge his sister by himself. His sister was even more than ordinarily interested in her own affairs, which had reached a critical stage, and if Peter, having run her to earth in her cabin, attempted to talk of any one save Ena Rolls or Lord Raygan her eyes became like shut windows.

He could almost see her soul turning its back and walking away behind the panes of opaque gray glass. Things were growing desperate for Peter. He was not, of course, in love with the "queer, arresting face," but he could not bear to think of its arriving alone and unprotected in New York. Something must be done, and he resorted to bribery. I daren't seem too eager. But as you are, I've been giving my mind to the subject.

I'm sure his sister would. Perhaps you can answer for the mother. The trouble may be money. I've thought of that. But what can we do? We can't go to him out of a clear sky and offer to lend. But whatever it is, I'm sure to! Ena was sitting on the seat under the window; Peter was looking uncomfortable on a camp-chair. It was a small cabin, boiling over with dresses, though the "Young Moon" had not yet been added to their number. Peter had never found his sister in a propitious mood for the gift, and had been keeping the "Moon," figuratively, up his sleeve till the right moment came. Now, perhaps it had come.

Ena had been lying down after luncheon. She had given herself this little rest because she knew that Raygan was going to play poker in the smoking-room. She had learned bridge--though cards bored her--just as she had learned tennis and golf and all sorts of eccentric dances, in order to be popular, to be in the swim, to do just what the fashionable people were doing--the people at the top, where she wanted to arrive. But she could not play poker!

And if she could, it would have been impossible to go with Lord Raygan into the smoking-room. Luckily no other girl would be there, so Ena resigned herself to the loss of valuable time on her last day. It won't be a hard favour to do, Sis. It's only to let me introduce a girl, a very nice girl, and then to be kind and help her if she needs it. I guess--I mean, I fancy--I can promise that.

Girls don't need much help nowadays Who is she? Have I seen her? You haven't seen her. Ena, and all the other girls he knew, invariably asked it. But he did not quite know what to answer. She hasn't got what you call features, but--you can't take your eyes off her somehow. She looks--she looks--well, a tiny bit like a--a--perfectly gloriously fascinating--golliwog. She's nearly always laughing, even when she isn't happy.

She's got a long neck, like a flower stem, and long legs" "Good gracious, what a description! For heaven's sake, who is the girl? I've been--saving it for a surprise. It's called the 'New'--no, the 'Young Moon. The day Lord Raygan offered to go back to that room and choose me one and I said no, I didn't want a dress? That was the day. I couldn't let her try it on in vain. And I bought the dress to please you, of course. I've got it in my room. Well, I'll thank you when I see it.

Lord Raygan said they were all bleached and painted, except the one who wasn't pretty. But I think she is pretty, and better than pretty. Her eyes--and her smile" "Never mind her eyes and her smile.