Coquette

workroom with another person. And this personwas a young man with a grey, thin face, rather tall and stooping, with ahesitating manner, and a general air of weakness. He followed MadameGala round the room in an idle way, nodding to several of the girls; andSally thought he had a very attractive smile. She found him looking atherself with a pair of large soft brown eyes, like chocolate which hasbeen in a warm place. It was a rather dumb look. A little nick camebetween Sally's brows. She was busy making an inventory of the young manvisitor's traits, his features, his clothes. He dressed well, and he wasnot bad-looking. With more stamina he might have been almost handsome;but he was obviously not in good health. The stoop, the vagueness of allhis movements, his soft eye, all betokened as much. Sally turned toMuriel Barrett, who worked next to her.

  "Who's he?" she asked, indicating the stranger.

  "That's Bertram ... Madame's son. Mr. Merrick, his real name is. But wecall him Gaga."

  "Wodjer call him that for?" asked Sally. "Isn't he right in his head?"

  "Oo, well one of the gels--she's gone now, Mary Smith,--made it up. Shesaid he was Mr. Gala, you know. Then she called him Bertie Gaga, forfun; and it got to Gaga. I never spoken to him, so I don't know. Lookout, he's looking at us. Oo, I believe he's got a crush on you, Sally."

  Presently the young man followed his mother out of the room, and therewas a little buzz when they were gone. The girls leaned together, andwhispered, laughing among themselves. Muriel Barrett turned again toSally, and became confidential. She herself was a pink, snub-nosedblonde, with untidy hair, who was always sniffing over her work. Shejerked her head at Rose Anstey, the tall dark girl whom Sally hadnoticed when first she came.

  "Rose thought he was in love with her once," Muriel said. "Well, he was,a bit; but not as much as she thought. I mean, he used to look at her,and all that, but he never give her anything, or took her out. I think... you know ... she's a bit struck on him. That's more like it. Shethinks he's a very tall handsome man. Well, he's not my taste. Funny, ifyou're tall, I s'pose you want a tall man to fall in love with you. It'sdifferent, being small, I suppose. My Elf's only about inch taller thanme. You can't hardly see there's any difference between us. If I've gotmy hair frizzed he looks...."

  Muriel went on talking. Sally took a glance at Rose, who, with eyesdowncast, was sewing rapidly. Sally wished she had known that about Roseand Gaga while he was in the room: then she would have been able to lookat Rose and make up her mind about that affair. She did not supposereally that there was anything in it, either way. Muriel was a littlefool--like a little pink pig. That was just what she was like. And shechattered like a monkey. She had said that because he looked at hertwice Gaga had got a crush on Sally. Well, Sally didn't mind. He couldhave any old crush he liked, for all she cared. Gaga was dismissed fromher immediate attention, although she sometimes recollected a pair ofsoft brown eyes, that made her want to say "Moo" as if in response totheir dumb longing.

  The outcome of this visit, which occurred towards the end of May, was aday's outing for the girls at the beginning of June. They all went intothe country by train, on a day which at first promised to be typical ofall days unfortunately chosen for staff outings, but which cheered uplater and became brilliantly fine. Only the girls were there, with MissSummers and another forewoman, Miss Rapson, to see that nobody fellinto mischief. They had a good picnic lunch in woods, and ran or walkedor sat about all the afternoon, until it was time for tea. They thentrooped into an hotel in which a room had been engaged, and scrimmagedfor places round a big table. The tea was an enormous meal: Sally, whohad not hitherto enjoyed herself any more than most of the other girlshad noisily done, felt herself grown to twice her normal size. It wasthe biggest meal she had ever eaten, and there were cream and milk andsugar, and there were cakes and lettuce and jam and all sorts of otherencouragements to appetite. And every time anybody laughed the soundwent up to the varnished rafters, and billowed so much that the twoelder women had at last to break in upon a laughter competition. Sallyheld aloof from the laughter, scornfully regarding the laughers. She hadbeen rather serious all day.

  And when the noise and fun were at their height Madam and Gaga andanother man and woman came into the room, having motored to the hotel,taken their tea in another room, and determined to join the party. Thetea had been so late, and so prolonged, that it was already nearly eighto'clock, and as the sky had grown overcast and the day was drawing to aclose the lights suddenly popped up to illumine the faces of bothfeasters and visitors. A piano was opened at the far end of the room,and the woman who was with Madam sat down at it and began to play. Butonly one or two of the girls danced: the others had eaten too much to beable to do so. Then Rose sang a song, in which she said that her heartwas aching and breaking at somebody's forsaking, and the girls looked atone another significantly; and there were more songs, and the girls satback in their chairs with flushed faces, and each of them in turn seemedto be doing something to entertain the party. With a bored feeling,Sally was sipping her last cup of tea, when she became aware that Gagahad taken the chair next to her, and with his chocolate eyes was lookingpleadingly into her face.

  "Don't _you_ sing?" he asked. "I wish you'd sing."

  "I got no music," said Sally.

  "Mrs. Roach would be able to make an accompaniment. She understandsmusic very well--if you hummed her a song. I wish you'd sing."

  Sally rose to her feet. The other girls all watched her with narrowedeyes. She was wearing such a pretty dress of light grey cotton poplinthat she looked smarter than ever, they thought--in fact, almost pretty.She went close to the piano, and spoke to the pianist. "_Oo, swank!_"whispered the girls, when they saw that Sally was to play her ownaccompaniment. It was a thing none of them could have done.

  "'When you and I go down the love path together, Birds shall be singing and the day so long....'"

  sang Sally, in her clear voice, and made everybody arch their brows insurprise.

  "'Your heart mine, and mine in your keeping, List while I sing to you love's tender song. Ah, love, have done with your repining, See how the day is clear; Heart of my heart, On your fond heart reclining Dear, oh my Dear....'"

  She played with care, and struck no false notes. She sang her best. Hervoice was the best voice of the afternoon, a mezzo-soprano, but withclear upper register and a fulness that suggested training. It was nota great performance, but it thrilled the others. Sally had triumphed.With one accord the girls clapped.

  "My best worker," said Miss Summers, rubbing her cold nose and turningto the accompanist of the afternoon.

  "A clever little girl," agreed her neighbour.

  But Gaga was stupefied. He had remained in the chair next to Sally's,and when she resumed her place his mouth was still open with delight andadmiration. Again he leaned forward, and she met his melting chocolateeyes.

  "That was beautiful," he said, in a low tone of commendation."Beautiful!"

  "Glad you liked it," she said, almost brusquely. Instinctively she shota glance in Rose's direction. Rose, her cheeks mantling, was observingthe two with interest. Sally's brain clicked an impression, and shelistened to a stammering from Gaga which aroused her contempt. "He'shardly a man at all," she thought. "He's soppy. Rose can have him. Iwish her joy of him. She can have him--and twenty like him, if shewants.... I don't know so much about that. Why should she? She's stuckup. Why shouldn't I have some fun, if I want to? It's nothing to do withRose Anstey what I do, and what Gaga does...."

  Her demand was unanswerable, because it was addressed to one who did nothabitually withdraw herself lest she should give pain to others. If Rosewas jealous, that showed the sort of cat she was. And in any case, whowas Rose? Sally was bright in her responses to the soft voice, so thatGaga was pleased; but the girls could all see that her manner was cool,and not the flustered eagerness of a beggar. Rose's neighbour whispered.When the evening was over and Gaga and his mother had gone, and thegirls had all piled into two railway compartments, somebody, whosevoice was unrecognis
able in the darkness, called from the othercarriage:

  "What price Gaga on the love path? Whey!"

  There was great laughter. Even Sally joined in it. Going home, the othergirls in her carriage all insisted upon hearing the song again, and asthey all had the quick ear of Cockneys they could sing it in chorus bythe time the train reached its journey's end. Sally had become, for atime, the heroine of the occasion. Only Rose, in the other carriage, hadmade her protest against the song and its singer.

  "Love path!" she said, in a warm voice of indignation. "She's nothingbut a cocket--a white-faced cocket. That's what she is.