Hilda Lessways

torial

ek’s; its pipe, supported by wire stays, went straight up nearly to the grimy ceiling, and then turned horizontally and disappeared through a clumsy hole in the scorched wall. It was a shabby stove, but not more so than the other few articles of furniture—a large table, a small desk, three deteriorated cane-chairs, two gas brackets, and an old copying-press on its rickety stand. The sole object that could emerge

re, and the letters are duly copied! But this was not such a press. It had been outworn in Mr. Karkeek’s office; rust had intensified its original defects of design, and it produced the minimum of result with the maximum of means. Nevertheless, the young woman loved it. She clenched her hands and her teeth, and she frowned, as th

she murmu

ays facetiously cheerful, and wit

e father of smudged epistles. I’m ready to go t

savage scowlings and wrinklings, and in her rapt gazings, and in all her awful absorption, he had quite failed to perceive the terrible eager outpouring of a human soul, mighty, passionate, and wistful. He had kept his eyes on her slim bust and tight-girded waist that sprung suddenly neat and smooth out of the curving skirt-folds, and it had not occurred to him to exc

ne during the day. She could not write shorthand as well as Mr. Dayson, and she never would, for Mr. Dayson had the shorthand soul; but, as the result of sustained and terrific effort, she could write it pretty well. She had grappled with Isaac Pitman as with Apollyon and had not been worsted. She cou

She had at once divined that he meant to offer her some kind of a situation in the enterprise, and she was right. Gratitude filled her. Mrs. Lessways, being one of your happy-go-lu

rdian, she had enthusiastically applauded his deep wisdom. Also she had applauded his project of moving, later on, to Hanbridge, the natural centre of the Five Towns. This was nearly the limit of her knowledge. She neither knew nor cared anything about the resources or the politics or the programme or the prospects of the paper. To her all newspapers were much alike. She did not even explore, in meditation, the extraordinary psychology of Mr. Cannon—the man whose original energy and restless love of initiative was leading him to found a newspaper on the top of a successful but audaciously irregular practice as a lawyer. She incuriously and with religious admiration acce

ictation, transcribe, copy, classify, and keep letters and documents, and occasionally correct proo

sponsibilities, she was in heaven! She who so vehemently objected to the squalid mess of the business of domesticity, revelled in the squalid mess of this business. She whose heart would revolt because Florrie’s work was never done, was delighted to wait all hours on the convenience of men who seemed to be the very incarnation of incalculable change and caprice. A

i

proof; she had a duplicate; the copy lay between them. It was the rough galley of a circular to the burgesses that they were correcting together. Reading and

” he i

oes tha

ly, in the na?ve vanity of his knowl

in that ‘lower case’ meant a small letter instead of a capital; but s

htened’ there, before ‘pu

t? Oh!

margin. That’s to show it isn’t the int

rful footstep on the stairs, and th

his white muffler and large overcoat (which Dayson called an ‘immensikoff.’) She thought the master looked tired and worried. Supposing he fell ill at this supreme juncture! The whole enterprise would be scotched, and not forty Daysons could keep it going! The master was doing too much—law by day and journalism by night. They were perhaps all doing too much, but the others did not matter. Nevertheless, Mr. Cannon advanced to the table buoyant and faintly smiling, straightening his shoulders back, proudly proving to himself and to them that his individual for

. Cannon g

Bennions and made it clear to him that if he can’t guarantee to run off a maximum of two thousand

did he

unt

k two thousa

ice, leering pawkily, as though to indicate that he w

said Mr. Cannon. “Got that

prang i

ffidently. “But if you’d like

2O,” Dayson pu

gave it to Dayson. “It doesn’t matter, but you ought to

d Dayson, glancing at H

ve the level of the paper, he magnificently signed: “Dayson & Co.” Such was the title of the proprietorship. Just as Karkeek was Mr. Cannon’s dummy in the law,

down, will you?”

ayson lolled in his chair, throwing his head back. He knew that the presence of himself, the great shorthand expert, made Hilda nervous when

shining forehead, and then, meditative, absently lifted higher his care

replying to ours in which you inquire as to the circulation of the above ne

Hilda interrup

Our representative would be pleased to call upon you by appointment. Respectful

irst received Hilda into the offices of Mr. Q. Karkeek. He was earning a little extra money

inner door and opened it.

n—a mo

hat doggishly at the back of his head, stuck his hand

e notebook, blushing and nibbling at the pencil, was left al