Coquette

mirror, extending her arms, and patting downher skirt, she was content with everything but the incalculable effectof her recent activities. But the part of her hair which showed beneathher hat was a rich shade, and if her face looked artificially pale itstill appeared smooth and fresh.

  What doubt she may have had was set at rest by May Pearcey when theymet. The encounter took place in Grove Road at the corner of HornseyRoad, just where the shops are; and the two girls walked westwardtogether.

  "Oo, Sally, you _do_ look smart!" May irrepressibly cried. "Oo, what youbin doing to your hair! Looks lervly! Oo, and your face. Got off with aearl?"

  She was all attention at Sally's tale, and Sally showed her the letterto Madame Gala. They stood together reading it. For the moment May washonestly full of congratulation. She was so simple-minded, and so littleattached to the dressmaking, that she had no envy. A boy would have beena different matter. And she was honestly delighted with Sally'sappearance.

  "You look lervly!" she kept saying. "Oo, I do hope you get it. I say,come out 's evening, and tell me. Will you?" May was very coaxingindeed. She was sincerely impressed.

  It was a compliment, as well as a curiosity. Sally hesitated. She hadplanned to see Toby; but if Toby was going to be a lout she might justas well show him she didn't care.

  "All right," she said. "Look here, if I'm not there by half-past seven,you'll know I've been kept--mother's kept me. See?"

  "Mother!" laughed May. "Well, I'll be there quarter-past. See! Shouldn'tcome any further, case old Mother Jubb's lookin' out the window. Shemight not believe you was ill if she saw you lookin' so smart. Mightthink you was takin' a day off to go to the Zoo."

  They parted, May Pearcey to spin a tale of Sally's illness to MissJubb, and Sally to proceed, after getting a pair of black cotton gloves,to the West End. In the shop, half hidden among the rolls of flannel andlittle racks and trays of smaller articles of haberdashery, there was afull-length strip of mirror. It stood gloomily in the half-light of theshop, which, like all suburban drapers' shops, had the air of a crowdedand airless cavern full of stale adornments. Sally did not see themirror at first, but while the shop girl went to fetch the gloves, shewas looking idly round when she caught sight of a slim young lady inblack. The young lady was very trim, dressed all in black, with slimankles and pretty hands, and a big black hat--and it was herself!Herself, looking like a lady. Quickly, she stepped to the mirror,examining her cheeks, her neck, her brows, and her gloriouslyrichly-tinted hair. She was amazed and delighted. A proud smile twistedher thin little lips, so slightly touched with Lipsol that they did notseem to have been touched at all, but only to be prettier than usual.After the first curiosity, the first flush of recognition, followedprecise scrutiny. Sally nodded to herself. She would do. There was nodoubt of it. From that moment she was no longer triumphant or excited:she was sure. She had learnt a great lesson, that excitement is nocriterion of victory or happiness, and that the artist is cool,confident, free from triumph. At a bound, Sally had become an artist.She had always been potentially an artist; but she at last had attainedvision.

  xiii

  Precious pennies went to pay her tram fare to Tottenham Court Road; andfrom there she walked to Madame Gala's, asking the way, and gettingrather flustered and bewildered at the pushing crowds and the big shopswith their irresistible windows, and the extraordinary amount oftraffic that seemed to make Oxford Street one continuous torrent ofcarts and omnibuses. The big furniture shops in Tottenham Court Road hadimpressed her; but the shops in Oxford Street were beyond anything sheever remembered to have seen. A flash of comparison with Holloway--evenwith Jones's magnificent row of shops on the way to Highbury, or the bigdrapers and clothiers in the Upper Street--made her realise how righthad been her longing for the West End. It had been more than a dream. Ithad been an inspiration. Holloway was seen in its dinginess, its greasymud on the rough roads, the general air it had of being a step or twobehind the times; and here was the brilliance, the enthralling reality,of the West to take its place. Sally was conscious of new buoyancy. Ifshe had been pleased with Tottenham Court Road, and delighted with theessentially commonplace Oxford Street, she exulted in that alluringcurve which will always make Regent Street a fascination for the visitorto London and even a satisfaction to the Londoner himself. Sally wasboth a Londoner and a visitor, and her feelings were proportionate. Shedid not know that she was proud of being London born and bred; but hereye was possessive, and she would not have given London in exchange forthe dozen other great capitals of the world put together. She lookedround at the shops, at the buildings and the traffic; and she made ahistoric remark.

  "Cooh," she said. "Fine! Fancy _living_ here! This is the place for me."

  It was final. It took no account of the risks of a peradventure. MadameGala was a mere cog in the great wheel of Sally's progress through life.Even Toby had at first no place in her survey. Then she wondered if heknew Regent Street. He could come one Saturday and wait for her outsideMadame Gala's. They would swank, and go and have tea at an A. B. C. orLyons's; and perhaps go into Hyde Park. Gradually it came back to herthat her father used to take them to Hyde Park on Sundays. But that waslong ago, and on Sundays the traffic was less and the shops were allshuttered. She gave a sigh at the memory, awoke, and marched up to acolossal policeman who was wagging a pair of gloves in his righthand--as if to keep the flies away, but in reality to encourage thetraffic. He inclined an ear, and an eye to her letter, and trumpeted outdirections.

  And at last Sally reached Madame Gala's, and with Madame Gala's anotherturning-point in her life. It was the first time she had been consciousof so all-important an event. When she came to the building she wastrembling. Her eyes closed, almost in an expression of prayer. She tookfive minutes to climb the stairs to the second floor, and then turned tofly. She recovered, and hung about for a while, hoping for some accidentto carry her right into the place. Then, with a feeble air ofconfidence, she pushed open the door and walked in without knocking.

  Sally could have fallen down in horror; for as she entered she saw avery tall young woman talking to the most beautifully dressed person shehad ever seen. And they were in a room such as Sally had never been inbefore--a room entirely decorated in a sort of grey-blue. Wallpaper,hangings, and chair-upholsterings were exactly uniform. The effect,although beautiful and restful, was to Sally's eye so sumptuous that shefelt she must by some terrible mischance have come into a drawing-room.But she heard the young woman say, "Yes, meddam.... I'll tell MadameGala.... Yes, meddam.... Yes, meddam ... quite ... yes, I quite...._Good_ morning, meddam." And then as the wonderful creature disappearedin a whirl of richness, like a fairy godmother, the tall young womanturned almost pouncingly upon Sally, and in a contemptuous voice said"Yes?"

  Sally shook herself. It was the gesture of one who has been dreaming.

  "I want to see Madame Gala," she said, very distinctly. "I've got aletter for her from Mrs. Barrow."

  "Where is it?" demanded the young woman. "That it?"

  She took from Sally's unwilling but unresisting hand the letter whichMrs. Perce had written, pulled it from the open envelope, read it, andlooked again at Sally.

  "I want to _see_ Madame Gala," said Sally, stubbornly. Her little mouthwas now very savagely set, and if there had been any refusal upon theyoung woman's part there would have been a scene.

  "All right. Keep your hair on," said the inquisitive young woman. "Areyou Miss Minto?"

  "Yes, I am." Sally nodded energetically, flushing. She wondered if theword "hair"....

  Her interlocutor turned, and went into an inner room, replacing theletter as she did so, and folding over the flap, so that it would seemas though she knew nothing of the contents. Sally quickly saw the kindof person she was--an interfering creature, with "Miss Pry" written allover her. She was tall and thin, and had gooseberry eyes and a smallnose and a large sycophantic mouth. Sally had a picture of her all thetime she was away--grey-blue dress and all. She didn't like her. Shehated her. She knew that they woul
d never get on together. Miss Nosey!"Yes, meddam; no, meddam ... yes, I _quite_...." Sally tried topronounce quite "quaite," as she had done. After all, she was only asort of maid--somebody to take the names of callers. She'd got no rightto be saucy. Old six-foot. Old match-legs. She'd got a nose ineverybody's business. Mind she didn't get it pulled!... But what alovely room! Must have cost pounds and pounds! All grey-blue--even tothe little ornaments on the mantelpiece, all except the black tiger.Fancy working in a place like this! Different to Miss Jubb's! Sally gavea sort of internal giggle, a noiseless affair that was almost just awriggle of delight. Miss Jubb! Did you ever see anything like the dressshe made