Doris continued to haunt agencies and theatrical offices, dawdling all
day from one to the next, sitting for hours in company with other
aspirants to histrionic honours and wages, gossiping, listening to
stage talk, professional patter, and theatrical scandal until her
pretty ears were buzzing with everything that ought not to concern her
and her moral fastidiousness gradually became less delicate.
Repetition is the great leveller, the great persuader. The greatest
power on earth, for good or evil, is incessant reiteration.
Catharine lost her position, worked at a cheap milliner's for a week,
addressed envelopes for another week, and was again left unemployed.
Athalie accepted several offers; at one place they didn't pay her for
two weeks and then suggested she take half the salary agreed upon; at
another her employer became offensively familiar; at another the
manager made her position unendurable.
By July the financial outlook in the Greensleeve family was becoming
rather serious: Doris threatened gloomily to go into burlesque;
Catharine at first tearful and discouraged, finally grew careless and
made few real efforts to find employment. Also she began to go out
almost every evening, admitting very frankly that the home larder had
become too lean and unattractive to suit her.
[Illustration: "Doris continued to haunt agencies and theatrical
offices."] Doris always went out more or less; and what troubled Athalie was not
that the girl had opportunities for the decent nourishment she needed,
but that her reticence concerning the people she dined with was
steadily increasing.
"Oh, shut up! I can look out for myself," she always repeated
sullenly. "Anyway, Athalie, you are not the one to bully me. Nobody
ever presented me with a cosy flat and--"
"Doris!"
"Didn't your young man give you this flat?"
"Don't speak of him or of me in that manner," said Athalie, flushing
scarlet.
"Why are you so particular? It's the truth. He's given you about
everything a man can offer a girl, hasn't he?--jewellery, furniture,
clothing--cats--"
"Will you please not say anything more!"
But Doris was still smarting under recent admonition, and she meant to
make an end of Athalie's daily interference: "I will say what I like
when it's the truth," she retorted. "You are very free with your
unsolicited advice. And I'll say this, and it's true, that not one
girl in a thousand who accepts what you have accepted from Clive
Bailey, is straight!"
Athalie's tightening lips quivered: "Do you intimate that I am not
straight?"
"I didn't say that."