In the Cage
CHAPTER I
It had occurred to her early that in her position--that of a young
person spending, in framed and wired confinement, the life of a
guinea-pig or a magpie--she should know a great many persons
without their recognising the acquaintance. That made it an
emotion the more lively--though singularly rare and always, even
then, with opportunity still very much smothered--to see any one
come in whom she knew outside, as she called it, any one who could
add anything to the meanness of her function. Her function was to
sit there with two young men--the other telegraphist and the
counter-clerk; to mind the "sounder," which was always going, to
dole out stamps and postal-orders, weigh letters, answer stupid
questions, give difficult change and, more than anything else,
count words as numberless as the sands of the sea, the words of the
telegrams thrust, from morning to night, through the gap left in
the high lattice, across the encumbered shelf that her forearm
ached with rubbing. This transparent screen fenced out or fenced
in, according to the side of the narrow counter on which the human
lot was cast, the duskiest corner of a shop pervaded not a little,
in winter, by the poison of perpetual gas, and at all times by the
presence of hams, cheese, dried fish, soap, varnish, paraffin and
other solids and fluids that she came to know perfectly by their
smells without consenting to know them by their names.
The barrier that divided the little post-and-telegraph-office from
the grocery was a frail structure of wood and wire; but the social,
the professional separation was a gulf that fortune, by a stroke
quite remarkable, had spared her the necessity of contributing at
all publicly to bridge. When Mr. Cocker's young men stepped over
from behind the other counter to change a five-pound note--and Mr.
Cocker's situation, with the cream of the "Court Guide" and the
dearest furnished apartments, Simpkin's, Ladle's, Thrupp's, just
round the corner, was so select that his place was quite pervaded
by the crisp rustle of these emblems--she pushed out the sovereigns
as if the applicant were no more to her than one of the momentary,
the practically featureless, appearances in the great procession;
and this perhaps all the more from the very fact of the connexion
(only recognised outside indeed) to which she had lent herself with
ridiculous inconsequence. She recognised the others the less
because she had at last so unreservedly, so irredeemably,
recognised Mr. Mudge. However that might be, she was a little
ashamed of having to admit to herself that Mr. Mudge's removal to a
higher sphere--to a more commanding position, that is, though to a
much lower neighbourhood--would have been described still better as
a luxury than as the mere simplification, the corrected
awkwardness, that she contented herself with calling it. He had at
any rate ceased to be all day long in her eyes, and this left
something a little fresh for them to rest on of a Sunday. During
the three months of his happy survival at Cocker's after her
consent to their engagement she had often asked herself what it was
marriage would be able to add to a familiarity that seemed already
to have scraped the platter so clean. Opposite there, behind the
counter of which his superior stature, his whiter apron, his more
clustering curls and more present, too present, H's had been for a
couple of years the principal ornament, he had moved to and fro
before her as on the small sanded floor of their contracted future.
She was conscious now of the improvement of not having to take her
present and her future at once. They were about as much as she
could manage when taken separate.
She had, none the less, to give her mind steadily to what Mr. Mudge
had again written her about, the idea of her applying for a
transfer to an office quite similar--she couldn't yet hope for a
place in a bigger--under the very roof where he was foreman, so
that, dangled before her every minute of the day, he should see
her, as he called it, "hourly," and in a part, the far N.W.
district, where, with her mother, she would save on their two rooms
alone nearly three shillings. It would be far from dazzling to
exchange Mayfair for Chalk Farm, and it wore upon her much that he
could never drop a subject; still, it didn't wear as things HAD
worn, the worries of the early times of their great misery, her
own, her mother's and her elder sister's--the last of whom had
succumbed to all but absolute want when, as conscious and
incredulous ladies, suddenly bereft, betrayed, overwhelmed, they
had slipped faster and faster down the steep slope at the bottom of
which she alone had rebounded. Her mother had never rebounded any
more at the bottom than on the way; had only rumbled and grumbled
down and down, making, in respect of caps, topics and "habits," no
effort whatever--which simply meant smelling much of the time of
whiskey.
