THE SILVER TEA SHOP.
CHARMING LOVE STORY BY A POPULAR WRITER.
By EVELYN EVERETT-GREEN,
Author of “Adventurous Anno “The Temptation of Mary Lister, ’ “Defiant Diana,” etc., etc.
CHAPTER lII.—THE NEW HAND. A litle pucker of anxiety furrowed Mary Silver’s brow. The genial February had been followed by a wild, blustery March, and influenza colds were attacking all classes. Her waitress staff had escaped; but her humbier helpers were almost all down with it. Yet- business was brisk, for Lent gave leisure to a* largo section of her patrons, who made up parties for the tea shop, when they ceased to arrange entertainment's on a larger scale. She expected at least three private parties to-day, and her large room would certainly fill to overflowing. Her Staff was working gallantly, but there were arrears to cope with, and she had sent in many directions for help without avail. ‘ . ■ As she stood in her big room, having made inspection of her attractive window and other arrangements, she became aware of a face looking in, and suddenly her attention became nvetted. It was a young face, a handsome one, with tjie tvpo of feature which is termed cagle-like. But it was very thin—almost haggard, and the man s clothes, though scrupulously pub on and of a good cut, were wearing threadbare. She guaged the expression in the bright, somewhat hollow eyes. It was one of stark hunger. Mary’s heart suffered a sudden keen pang of pity. She was a woman of quick impulses and keen intuitions. The former she had Teamed to curb: the latter she had come to trust. She walked straight to the door and spoke to the young fellow, who instantly lifted his cap and gazed back at her with frank surprise at the first, then with an eagerness which endowed his face with real charm. “Excuse my speaking to you,” said I Mary, quietly, “but I am in a great difficulty. I want help—but only in a humble capacity. If you are in need of a job, and do not mind its humbleness, will you help me?” “Will I? Well, I rather think so, ma’am! I was just thinking that if I had the price of a broom about me, I’d try my luck as a crossing-sweeper. I’m not afraid of work. Try me!”
“1 will” spoke Mary, “and very gladly. My staff-behind the scenes are down with'flue. Como this way and I will show you.”
She led the way through the shop and behind the swing doors to the kitchen regions beyond. The cook, flushed aud tearful, rose at her coming; Jane Fossbury was standing by, concern on her face.
“Ma’am, wo can’t get the toiler to heat anyhow. Wo’vo tried this and that, but it’s no good whatever. We’ve got kettles on; hut what will they do when the rush comes. And not a chance to get a man before to-morrow, if then.” There wore almost tears in Jane’s honest eyes. For the tea-shop to fail would indeed ho a bitter pill, But help was nearer at hand than she had dared to hope. “May I have a look, ma’am?” spoke the stranger who followed the mistress. Without oven waiting for an answer, ho threw off his coat, revealing a tattered, though cleanly shirt beneath. Bolling up his sleeves and gettiflg hold of some tools which beyonged to the recalcitrant kitchener, ho was hard at work at once, handling the tools, screwing and unscrewing, thrusting an arm up here, or a tool up there, with such an air of comprehension that the women watched with a sense of comfort and assurance. At length, in no long time, he pulled out his hand, holding a solid fragment of brick in it. “Here we are!” he exclaimed. “■Draught choked. Fire couldn’t do tTs work. Now we’ll have everything ship-shape in half a jiff. But I’d like* when the graters cold, to have another overhauling of it. I’ll come to-morrow early. There’s a thing I don’t altogether like about it. You’re burning too much coal for the work it’s got to do. I could easy stop that waste with a bit of lirehrick and your leave to drill a hole or two. No use blazing fuel away at a waste.” “Indeed not,” answered Mary, examining her now hand with close attention. “Ah, and how the fire draws now. .You will get your hot water in a very short time now, Jano.” “Yes, ma’am, and I’m, thankful for it. But look ati all tho washing-up waiting to bo done. We couldn’t tackle it yesterday, and to-day no hot water. Wo have all tho bread and butter to cut, and tho sandwiches to make and the tables to set. The girls are upstairs still, with the private parties’ tables, and how to get through ” “That washing-up is my job, isn’t it, ma’am?” asked tho new hand. “Don’t you ho afraid of a bull in a china shop. I’ll undertake I break nothing. We’ll have hot water now in a brace of shakes, and then I’ll set to work. You shall seo!” _ Mary smiled—they all smiled. Something 'in the personality of their new | helper laid a hold on them. And when Mary suggested that whilst ho waited the necessary minutes for the water to heat he should have something to eat, a meal was set before him in a few moments. whilst tho way in which lie tacklecl It brought a lump into Alary’s throat. She had not been mistaken about the hunger. “This is good I” he said. “I’m no end grateful. Now, you shall sec what I can do. My name—well, it’s John Colquhoun; but it you don’t mind, whilst I’m working here for you, I’d
like you all just to call me Jack— Ijko any other scullion or bottlewasher!” And his face lighted with a smile that won them all. If it had boon good to see Jack eat, it was good also to see him at his task with Mary’s delicate china. He handled it with a deft dexterity _ which showed him no novice with delicate articles.Yet his movements were so swift, and his method so excellent that the work melted before him in marvellous fashion. He was as careful and quick at drying as washing, and as ho worked he told the cook how he would rig up to-morrow (if ho was allowed to come again) a “spray-washer” which should halve alike the labour and the expenditure of hot water. “You’ve plenty of pressure hero. But your quarters are a bit' cramped. Is there no basement —must bo one, of course, to a house like this. We might rig up a dynamo, and do all this sort of thing by electricity at a huge saving. Over the duck-pond they know a thing or two. They laugh at our antiquated methods. I say, who are these jolly iittle girls trooping in now?” “They’re Jane Fossbnry’s nieces—the waitresses. They’re coming in for the china for the tables and to cut . sandwiches.” “Sandwiches!” cried Jack, “good j business! Now look here, cook, have i you any cold cooked potato on the pre- j miscs?” , ' ! “Why, yes, sir,” she answered, using j the last word unconsciously, neither or them noticing, “but what in the world ”
“Then just you pound it up into a paste with a lot of butter. And if somebody will lend me a shilling for a bag of shrimps at the fishmonger’s round the corner, I’ll show you a wrinkle!” “But, sir—we don’t have nothing vulgar at the silver ” , “That’s just it—vulgar; means common. I’m going to show you all a something most uncommon. Thank you ” this with a smile to Charity Fossbury, who held out a florin on her palm, “we’ll do it in style while we’re about it.” His coat was on in a moment, he seized his cap and was off like “greased lightning.” “Suppose he takes 'the money—and bolts!” said cook doubtfully. “Not he!” answered Charity. “He’s all right. You will see. I call this rather entertaining. Better than old frowzie and her family!” The cook was hard at work with potato and butter; in a few minutes Jack was back with a bag of shrimps, all cooked and ready for “skinning and eating,” as he expressed it. His long, mobile, square-tipped fingers seemed as dexterous at shrimp-skinning as they had done at other tasks before. Very soon he was rolling the shrimps into cook’s potato paste, and when he had
manipulated the consistency to his liking no handed it over to the eager waitresses, who spread it over thin slices of round roll and made it into sandwiches, which they tasted themselves and skipped for joy. “It’s simply delicious. Jack—we’ll risk another florin, and have another lot! There’ll be a run on these sandwiches—you’ll see ”
Jack laughed and darted out for more shrimps. Cook pounded and buttered more potato. The waitresses carried off plates of cakes and sandwiches into the tea-rooms, and soon the afternoon’s business was in full swing upstairs and down. Jack’s sandwiches scored the success that the Fossbury trio had anticipated. Everybody asked for them, everybody pronounced them delicious, and everybody asked the secret, which Mary smilingly declared she did not know. “Can you come again to-morrow, Jack?” she asked. “Why, rather! And if you’d let mo sleep down in the basement on the heap of shavings and sacks I saw there I could get to work by five o’clock in the morning at that stove. I could get all I want to-night, and we’d save a third of the fuel, and get more heat out of the-stove at the same time. Let me explain.” He did this so lucidly that Mary resolved , to give him his way. ' She shrewdly suspected that for the moment the man was homeless. A roof oyer his head these bitter March nights would bo something, and save Jiis pocket. Jane Fossbury promised to provide the bedding, and Mary resolved upon the morrow to hear something of the young tale. That ho was a gentleman she did not doubt, that he was clever and inventive she had seen for herself. He had helped her out of a tight comer to-day. And one good turn deserves another. (To be Continued.)
Permanent link to this item
https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/TH19201025.2.82
Bibliographic details
Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 16876, 25 October 1920, Page 8
Word Count
1,712THE SILVER TEA SHOP. Taranaki Herald, Volume LXVIII, Issue 16876, 25 October 1920, Page 8
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