WHERE ARE THE GIRLS?

Pukekohe & Waiuku Times, Volume 4, Issue 107, 12 November 1915, Page 2 (Supplement)

WHERE ARE THE GIRLS?

"AIARY JANE" AND THE WAR

GLAMOUR

In our ten years of more or tow ruffled bliss I've never known my wile really rude until last night. 1 was aghast, for Lollie's a gentle soul, doveeyed, low-voioed, and —as I thought—quite unshrewish. Possibly dressed above war-time, yet with no belligerent neighbours, and none but neutral creditors, who loved her hopeful smile. Here I pause with unpleasant w mory of an abrupt squall in our tranquil evening; our blue-eyed heir meanwhile agape at us, with war loaf pellets in his hand wherewith to bombard the cat. All w.is peace. I put up my kg* and, folding back the "Final »ar, sp'ed a column on the activities ot nobl- ladies—tliose who propose the plough-tail for the out-o'-work typiei, and see the anxious dressmaker, reins in hand, driving a load of bricks to release the wrong man for King and country at this critical time. Two birds, you see, disabled with one guttering stone from the Mayfair street. Still, it was pretty reading, with coffee and 'creme de menthe' at hand from a sofa. "Marv lloiifl," I mused, "what duchesses are doin' these days! Singin'to the soldioi's wife on wash-day, dandlm the war-baby that daddy hasn't seen, an' pressin' hobble skirts on Mrs. Kelly, who bu'ste 'em at the first 6weep o' the swab on the office floor."—I paused here for a sip and a puff of smoke tlia went up like a prayer in wafting visibility. But there was no word, no low laugh from Lollie, only sharp reproof of her son for the horrid mess he was making on the carpet.

A BIG PROBLEM. "Big problem," I went on —"all these thousan's an' thousan's o' women and giris thrown out o' work by the war. I see Australia's taking shiploads of 'em—Poor things!— Women's Emergency Corps teachin' 'em to make tovs, too. Th'nk o' the small-part actress with chisel an' sandpaper carvin' golliwogs at threepence an hour. Hidin' her hunger with pride " "I culd cry over it," Lollie put in vciously—l didn't notice hor tone at the time. ~ " Golliwogs 1 Surely the nadir of Art?" I rather liked that, and looked up, repeating it; but my wife went on with her knitting. "She's interested," was a sliadowy thought, as I watched blue rings float lampward with drowsy fascination. , " Seems there are girl chauffeurs, an grooms, lift-attendants, carters, gardeners —by Jove, it is a problem. Here's Lady Somebody with on outdoor school, where meek creatures tickle the stony soil and produce cauliflowers. 'Mother place at Bucks—here's a picture of young people in sports coats carry in' firewood by the mule-load and sapling trees. 'Back to the Byre,' says the Marchioness— Lollie, what is a'byre? Then the farmers are cryin' out for milkmaids. Chance for reduced gentlewomen <my lady says) to raise poultry an see to the lambs, to reap "Yes, reap and not sew, came lrom my dainty wife in a voice I'd never heard before. I fairly jumped, bhe was right to tears, so that pity dashed my anger and amazement. "Stare away!" (Oh her vengeful desperation!) "If you know what Ive been through to-day, trying to get u cook-general at two and twentypounds, with a half-day once a week, evenings out galore—whole day a month, same food as we have ourselves —and do you know the price of ltr And the price of coal ? And the tussle to make a sovereign do what fifteen shillings did last summer? Look at the girl's room up there, with it 6 Maple bed, red Brussels and white enamelled wardrobe, with every peg recalling hats I've given, and blouses and skirts,and furs, and—and icings, I might have sold, and didn t, lor ungra'-d ul sake 1'

THE UNGRATEFUL WRETCH! "You don't mean Jessie's gone? "I do! Hoity-toitied out of my house to-day at a moment's notice, leaving me with a lunch for three on my hands, to say nothing of our dinner to-night." "But what ?" "Just some fat she put in the jiven to frizzle, and forgot all about it, writing to Fred in France. She made up a roaring fire, and when I opened trie oven door out leaped the flames of a volcano. It's a mercy my clothes didn t catch."

"Ah, you scolded her?" "Of course, I was cross. 'Won't ao spoken to by nobody!' " And floated upstairs (Lollie's a capital mimic.; "She oanie down singing, with tho foxaline set I gave her last week, and any number of bundles with a present my pretseut—in every one. " 'What'll you do?' I asked Jess'e, looking out at the chilly rain, and retailing all I'd read about dibtress." " '1 can pick an' choose,' said she, drawing 011 .U\ gloves—there wasn t a hoi® iu cither, but I'm always giving. I think 111 be a train conductor up in Kd'nbro'—the Scotties are mad on war, an' want women to take their place, Fred says'—" Fred's in the Seaforths, you know, and what he save 'got*,' as New York has it."

" I could do nothing but go round to the registry offices. Wish you'd been tliero to hear Mother Coot! She gets latter and richer every month, swallowing half-crowns and double fees for the 'pearifl of price' who get more than twenty-five pounds. 1 said I had come for a cook-general--but I got no farther. Mrs. Coot Availed aloud.

AT THE REGISTRY. ''Girls, madam'r Can't get 'em at any price! A tlurty-pound cook went out as you came in, and she'd waehed her hands of dough for ever. Goin' to be a nurso, she says. A nurse, ma'am, makin' giblets o' the wounded an floutin' their friends!— God help Ytu all! The ladies are in despair, an' pitch things at rue—that 1 give a rolled-gold watch to every grl who leaves at tlio third month. The more fees the merrier, an' 60 on." "Coot says the housemaid is after the bauk-clerk's place—or, at least, the West End waiter's, where she'll tie Mi>«-cd and leered at. I'gli!" In her bitterness Lollie grew a little conrsw. "From Coot's I went to Waghorn'e aud then to Gee's, winding up with Thorn's and Tyfield's. "Same story everywhere. Mrs. Tyfield sniffed as I'm doing now. Tneinplayed, indeed! Where ARE those women an' girls? And farmin"? Fancy a girl gett'n' up at three o'clock on a winter's mornin' to feed swine and milk cows, when you can't get her down to a bacon an' egg breakfast at seven no, not with Big Ben as alarm clock, nn' your own two hands to do the cookin'.' "T never agreed with Tvfield before. Now I was with her lie.irl ;md foul. "So don't talk of d'.tic 'i anion",

women and girls. Don't talk about female bricklayers and wagoners, or destitute foreign refugees, afraid o» upsetting the labour market. 1 tell you —any housewife will tell you —tliat British homes are simply crymg tor decent, competent service, with good food and pay, cosy rooms, outings and gifts, and consideration we shouldn't show to our own. Write to the papers and see what a torrent you'll turn loose when harassed wived see your letter. The home is supposed to be woman's sphere. Then why dot* she loathe it? Why would Jessie rather be a tram-conductor? 1 Why did May slip into the boot-factory and out again, and on to the —the Door of Hope and Rescue Home at last: 1 "

THE SPIRIT OF ADVENTURE. "It's the spirit of adventure," 1 hanarded uncomfortably. "The vague unknown, so much more alluring than the day's monotonous round." -My wife subsided, sighing. "I daresay. And in higher spheres the same spirit sends women out to France and Flanders as signallers, telegraphists, dispatch riders, and mansnatchers on the shell-torn road. Haven't you heard of crazy girls cutting off their hair and joining their sweeth-nrts in the trench? It's so exciting. Beating carpets can't compare with it, and there's no thrill in the kitchen range." My cigarette was out, my coffee long grown <*old. "The great Lad ; es only dreamed of the out o' works," I said for the sake of peace. I was shocked and bewildered too. "The sad cases they put to meetings and write in reports are figments of theii; own imagination, I suppose P" . "The sad cases are swindles, my wife decided with great force, "lour shepherd lady feeding lambs on the January moor; the girl gardener wheeling soil in the north wind with rent to pay and food to buy—the eighteenpennv loai and mutton at one-and-three for a decent cut. If eucn there are, why don't they go and help in the homes? High wages await them, free quarters, and the best of food in the hardest of times. Am I a tyrant ? Or are p'gp nicer companions than wellbred children? Really the papers ought to know better than publisn such trash." "Then what do you suppose spurs the great ladies in these schemes?" "The spirit of adventure I" And quite rudely my overwrought spouse flouted out of the room. —W. G. Fitz-Gerald, in the "Scotsman,"