Bliss, and other stories

up at the ceiling. Her room, a Bloomsbury top-floor back, smelled of soot and face

and my back-especially my back; it's like a sheet of ice. And I always was such a one for being warm in the old days. It's not as

oss the ceiling, each of them accompanie

f Sensible Substantial Breakfasts followed the dinners across the ceiling, shepherded by an enormous, whit

etter for yo

hank you very much, Mrs. Pine. It's very g

dlady. "I thought perhaps it was

is." She put her head on one side and smiled va

in the post or another manager down at Brighton but will be back on Tuesday for certain–I'm fair sick and tired and I won't stand it no more. Why should I, Miss Moss, I ask you, at a time like this, with prices flying up in the air and my poor dear lad in France? My sister Eliza was only saying to me yesterday–'Minnie,' she says, 'you're too soft-hearted. You could have let that room time and time aga

g heard this. She sat up in bed

r M

ucing at present, but have

s tr

SH FIL

iar satisfaction; she read it through

said. This is from a manager, asking me to be there w

quick for her. She poun

Is it indeed

could not get out of bed because her nightdress was slit down the back. "Give me back my private l

we'll see who's a bad, wicked woman-that's all." Here she nodded, mysteriously. "And I'll keep this letter."

s, and sitting by the side of the bed, furious and shivering, she sta

s. "I could have her up for snatching my letter–I'm sure I could.

t over to the chest of drawers for a safety-pin, and seeing herself in the glass she gave a vague smile and shook her head. "Wel

f crying: you'll only make your nose red. No, you get dresse

om the bedpost, rooted in it,

le me before I go anywhere," she decided. "I've

at her bosom, a black hat covered with purple pansies, white gloves, boots with whi

emember when d

dar-kest bef

With his strange, hawking cry and the jangle of the cans the milk boy went his rounds. Outside Brittweiler's Swiss House he made a splash, and an old brown cat w

g trays of rolls, and there was nobody inside except a waitress doing her hair and the cashie

e last night," s

pping for you!" g

He brought me a sweet little brooch. L

o look and put her arm r

-how toppi

ss. "O-oh, he is brahn. 'Hullo,'

nd nearly bumping into Miss Moss on the way. "You are a treat!

cup of tea, Mi

h," she sang, "we're not open yet." She tur

we, d

the cashier. Mi

I'll have a coffee. There's more of a tonic in coffee. . . . Cheeky, those girls are! Her boy came ho

o sleep!" yelled a taxi drive

morning's post. . . . I'm very glad you turned up so early, Miss Moss. I've just heard from a manager who wants a lady to play. . . . I think you'll just suit him.

adgit's except the char-woman wip

yet, Miss," s

oss, trying to dodge the pail and brush.

Mr. Kadgit's never 'ere before 'leven-thirty Saturdays. Sometime

e," said Miss Moss. "I

Miss," said the char. And

ion, and there was everybody; you knew almost everybody. The early ones sat on chairs and the later ones sat on the early

Moss, very gay. "

e banjo on his walking-stick sang

Moss, taking out an old dead powde

e's been here for ages. We've all bee

s Moss. "Anything d

," said young Mr. Clayton. "Hundred an

. Isn't he a cure? Isn't he a scream , dear? Oh, Mr

girl touched Mis

it for certain if only I'd been robust enough. He said if my figure had been fuller, the part was made for me." She stared at Miss Mo

id Miss Moss trying to appear indif

w through her and a gleam of s

wanted someone young, you know-a dark Spanish

his shirt sleeves. He kept one hand on the door

ys. " The waiting-room laughed so loudly at this that he had to hold both hands up. "It'

h forward. "Mr. Bithem, I wond

g; he had only seen Miss Moss four times a week

Ada

I had another call for sixteen-but they had to know something about sand-dancing. Look here, my dear, I'm up to the eyebrows this morning. Come back on Monday w

he stairs. Miss Moss found herself next to a fair little baby

said she. "Anyth

at nine-thirty for attractive girls. We've all been waiting for hours. Have you played

"A friend of mine has a friend who gets thirty pounds

Miss Moss. "I'm a contralto singer. But things hav

isn't it, dear?

ss, "and I got my silver medal for singing. I've often sung at Wes

hat, isn't it, de

iful typist appeared a

iting for the N

cried th

I've just had a

t about our expense

n at them, and she co

been paid. The North-East

ompany. No waiting-room– nobody at all except a girl, who c

and seemed to go to sleep for a moment. Miss Moss smiled at her. The girl not only frowned; she seemed to smell so

said she. And bang

at her, slapped her face, jeered; it knew she could not answer them. In the Square Gardens she found a little wire basket to drop the form into. And then she sat down on one of

in and sit there and have a coffee, that's all," thought Miss Moss. "It's such a place for artists too. I might just have a stroke of luck. . . . A dark handsome gentleman in a fur coat comes in with a friend, and sits at my table, perhaps. 'No, old chap, I've searched London for a contralto and I can't find a soul. You see, the music is difficult; have a look at it.'" And Miss Moss heard herself saying: "Excuse me, I happen to be a contralto, and I have sung that part many times. . . . Extraordinary! 'Come back to my studio and I

iss Moss walked through them all. Hardly had she sat down when a very stout gentleman wearing a very s

ening!"

n her cheerful wa

," said the s

Quite a treat, is

aiter–"Bring me a large whisky"-and

l take a brandy if

n leaned across the table and blew a

ting bit o' ri

t the top of her head that she ne

s one for pi

dered her, drumming with

rm and well co

r surprise, gave

eaved himself up. "Well, am I goin' your

ame," said Miss Moss. And she sailed a