The Hired Girl(54)

She said her father was mad because she hadn’t read any of the books he gave her, and he held me up as an example. He said that here I was, a poor hardworking girl, willing to stay up all night in order to read and study, and there was Mimi, with everything made easy for her, refusing to be educated.

Well, I think Mr. Rosenbach has a point. But I didn’t say so, because I can see how aggravating it would be to have your father say you ought to be more like the hired girl. Mimi says her father is mad for education. Just now, he is trying to found a new school — it seems like I should write find instead of found, but Mimi said found — for Christian and Jewish children. Mr. Solomon and Mr. David went to a Quaker school, which is willing to accept Jews, but only if there aren’t too many. It’s a very good school, but when Mr. Rosenbach wanted to send Mimi, they said they weren’t going to take any more Jews. They offered to make an exception and have one more if Mr. Rosenbach would give the school ten thousand dollars. Ten thousand dollars! I think those Quakers have a lot of gall, asking for that. But even though Mr. Rosenbach has ten thousand dollars — imagine having ten thousand dollars to give away! — he didn’t give it to the Quakers. He said with that much money, he could found (find) his own school, so he and his friends are pooling their money to start one. Only I think he’s going to be very disappointed, because Mimi doesn’t want to go to the new school. She says it’s going to be an especially excellent school, and she knows what that means: too much work!

I didn’t listen to her as closely as I might’ve, because I was wondering what else Mr. Rosenbach might have said about me. I know he likes me, and I think Mr. Rosenbach is a little bit like Mr. Rochester. I even wondered (though I know this is conceited) if he might have been struck by me the way Mr. Rochester was struck by Jane. Jane wasn’t good-looking, but she was pure and innocent and all that. I started to daydream about Mr. Rosenbach being touched by my purity, but the daydream ran into a snag, because I don’t feel very pure. I am pure, mostly, because to be impure there have to be men, but I don’t feel pure because of all the things I’ve had to clean in my life. Things like privies and chicken houses take the bloom off a girl.

By the time Mimi finished telling me her troubles, we had arrived at the department store. I’ve never been inside a department store before. There was a fine store in Lancaster called Watt & Shand, but Ma said Father would skin us alive if we ever went in. I believe Rosenbach’s is larger and more beautiful — I think I’ll describe it at length in a future entry. It’s like a palace, with high ceilings and electric lights and glass-fronted cases full of dazzling things. Everything is so shiny and sumptuous and new smelling.

We went first to the book department, to Mimi’s disgust. I searched for Daniel Deronda, but I didn’t find it. The sales clerk is going to order a copy. I did find a copy of Jane Eyre, and it was the same edition Miss Chandler gave me. I had to buy it — I just had to — even though it was three dollars. I’ve missed Jane dreadfully, and I’ve missed the feeling of owning a book. Not having any books makes me feel empty and strained and pathetic.

So I bought Jane Eyre, and after that we went and bought my hat. By then Mimi’s good humor was restored, because she loves shopping. She bought new hair ribbons and a bottle of lilac perfume and a little parasol with fringe. She was so cunning in the hat department, trying on all the hats, and standing way back from the mirror to admire each one. She told me she’s made up her mind to run the store when she grows up, instead of being a concert pianist. Her father once told her she could be a lady doctor if she liked, and selling things is easier than saving lives, so she supposes it will be all right.

She was the one who found the Cheyenne-style hat for me and made me buy it. Afterward, I wanted to see if there were any nightgowns I could afford, because I only have the one, and Malka says it’s a shmatte. She says that about my underthings, too. I asked Mimi what it meant, and she says it means a rag.

I’d already spent four dollars and seventy cents, so I wasn’t in a hurry to separate myself from any more money. But the idea that all my things were shmattes stung. Mimi took me to the nightgown counter and showed me an entire outfit of ladies’ underthings — two corset covers, two petticoats, two pairs of drawers, and two nightgowns — all for four dollars and fifty cents. She said I should buy the entire outfit. Then I wouldn’t have to wear the shmattes.

I was torn in two. Four dollars and fifty cents is an awful price. But when Mimi added up what the things would cost if I bought them separately — she’s quick as a bird when she adds in her head — the price was even higher. Of course, the cheapest thing would be for me to buy muslin and make the things myself, but it would take hours, and they wouldn’t have any lace or ruffles on them. And the hours would be hours I could spend reading.