Mark Dunn - We Five

Ruth shook her head. “What I’d like is for the three of you to get yourselves out of these chairs and right down to the store before you lose your jobs. I cannot believe it! Sitting here like ladies of leisure and putting Miss Colthurst in such a terrible fix. She had to bring over Miss Grable from Misses’ Ready-to-Wear — Jeanna Grable, who doesn’t know the first thing about ribbons, and Miss Shields is making a terrible muddle out of measuring and packing in your absence, Molly.”

Molly frowned. “Is that my fault? Any other girl could learn the job in five minutes.”

“And just look at your faces,” Ruth grumbled on. “I’ve never seen such a study in glumitude. Honestly. You all look as if somebody just died owing each of you a very large sum of money.”

“Ha ha and hee hee,” returned Molly with a sneer and a flounce. “You may take your little vaudeville funny act elsewhere, Ruth.”

Ruth turned to Carrie, who was wearing a frothy lemon-phosphate mustache. “Carrie, can you not make them see reason? Nothing is going to get settled this morning and you’re all needed at the store. And today most especially.”

“And what makes today more special than any other day?” queried Carrie.

“If you must know, the new advertising agency that has been given Pemberton, Day’s account is going to photograph several lucky shop girls at Golden Gate Park on Friday, and each of you is in the running.”

“What do you mean, ‘photograph’?” asked Carrie.

Ruth sighed with exasperation. “ Photograph . With a camera. A professional camera — not a Brownie. Five of Mr. Pemberton’s salesclerks are going to become photography models for the entire day and they’ll appear in Pemberton, Day advertisements all over town — you’ve heard of advertisements?”

Molly’s face lighted up, while Carrie mumbled petulantly that of course, she’d heard of advertisements.

Ruth went on: “Miss Colthurst has picked ten of us who will be looked over by the agency men. And from those ten they’ll select five for the job.”

“Will we be paid?” Maggie, having finally decided to join the conversation, did so without the slightest suspension of her dark mood.

“Of course you’ll be paid,” replied Ruth. “If you’re selected.” Ruth’s expression suddenly changed; she grinned slyly. “My goodness, but aren’t we being a wee bit presumptuous about our chances?”

Maggie sucked up the remaining puddle of phosphate at the bottom of her fountain glass. Unlike her friend Carrie, who liked to slurp from a spoon, Maggie used a straw. “Not at all. We four are the prettiest salesclerks in the store. Of course, I have no idea who will occupy that fifth spot.”

“ I do,” said Ruth. “Jane.”

Maggie’s look of surprise replicated that of her friend Carrie. Molly registered her own astonishment with nothing more telling than a slight clearing of the throat.

“ Jane ?” said Maggie. “And just how is this possible?”

“Oh do be kind!” ejaculated Molly in a burst of magnanimity for her absent friend. “We’ve had all we can take of your monstrous behavior, Mag. It is common knowledge that Miss Colthurst is very fond of Ruth, and it’s probably a very simple thing for Ruth to ask her to exert her influence with these agency men to win Jane that fifth spot. And then it shouldn’t be far-fetched at all for the five of us — including Jane — to model those clothes together as we do nearly everything else together — even though Jane probably is ill-suited for the modeling profession.”

Ruth groaned. Withholding the fact that she had nothing to do with Jane being seriously considered for the advertisements, Ruth glared at Molly as she acerbically observed, “As far as I can tell, Mag isn’t the only one here today who has taken sudden leave of her generally kind and gentle nature.”

Carrie nodded. “It’s true. Both Mag and Molly have had a peach of a grouch with each other since they got up this morning, and now they’ve taken to lashing out at people who’ve done nothing but wandered innocently into their presence. Mag, I don’t believe, for example, that you ever thanked your uncle for these refreshing beverages.”

Maggie snorted. “Didn’t I?” She shrugged. “Well, I don’t remember one way or the other. My mind, as you already know, has been elsewhere. Besides, Uncle Whit probably didn’t even notice. He generally preoccupies himself during our visits from behind his pharmacy-office window-blind, peering and leering at us as if we’re the original Floradora girls.”

“ Mag !” exclaimed Carrie, her hand quickly flying to her mouth in reaction to this low insult.

“It’s true,” Maggie resumed. “And don’t — none of you! — turn around and look at him. He’ll know we’re talking about him. Ruth Thrasher, did you make all that up about the photography outing just so we’ll hustle ourselves over to the store?”

“Absolutely not. The agency men are coming. They’ll be there at two. But whether they’re coming or not, you’ve been most derelict and irresponsible — all three of you — in letting this spat keep you from your work.”

Maggie made as if she would contest this rebuke, but then surrendered and nodded with obvious contrition. “You’ll be happy to know, Ruth, that Molly and I have come to terms. We’ve smoked the pipe of peace. I remain unhappy with this deuced marriage, but I’ve promised no longer to actively oppose it.”

Ruth turned to Molly for confirmation. Molly nodded.

Then Ruth exchanged a look with Carrie. “And what was it that Molly brought to the armistice table?”

Molly spoke for herself: “A willingness to speak to Papa and ask if he might postpone the marriage for a while. Perhaps for a couple of years. Mag is right about one thing—”

“One very big thing,” put in Maggie.

“However you may wish to characterize it, Mag. Our parents are rushing into this marriage. They’ve planned nothing. They’re like Romeo and Juliet making googly eyes at each from opposite sides of the ballroom. The postponement works very much to my father’s benefit, because it gives Mag time to come around — to see that Papa has changed, that he isn’t at all the man he used to be.”

Ruth curdled her forehead into a frown. “This doesn’t smell right.”

Carrie laughed. She had tried to suppress it, but it came out none the less.

Ruth pointed at Carrie with an accusatory finger. “You know ! Out with it! What’s the real reason Molly’s agreed to these previously unthinkable terms?”

Carrie laughed again. Her laughter was blubbery: little puffs of merriment escaping from behind wobbly, loosely compressed lips. “You should sit down, Ruth. Molly, go and get Ruth a sarsaparilla.”

“I don’t want a sarsaparilla. I want the truth, and right this very moment, if you please.”

Carrie reached out and took Ruth’s hand. “Ruth, dear. You are to go to Miss Colthurst who, as it has been said before, is immoderately fond of you, and who will do anything you ask, and you are to tell Miss Colthurst that Molly can’t take another minute in that stuffy packer’s warren above the ribbon shelves doing the work of a galley slave. She’s to come down behind the counters and join the civilized world. It’s the only decent thing to do.”

“But who will—”

Maggie answered the question Ruth wasn’t given time to ask: “The cash girls are all being let go next week with the installation of all those bizarre and perfectly futuristic pneumatic tubes. Any one of those poor young things will be more than happy to take over Molly’s job as packer in the ribbon department to keep herself on the Pemberton payroll.”