A Scene in A Manicurist's Shop


Image above ca. 1909 from the LOC. Following scene from the 1899 play, The Gay Lord Quex.

[On the right Miss Claridge and Miss Huddle are in the final stages of manicuring two smart-looking men. The men occupy the screen-chairs; the manicurists—comely girls in black frocks—sit, facing the men, upon the smaller seats. On the left Miss Moon is rougeing and varnishing the nails of a fashionably-dressed young lady, whose maid is seated at the table in the centre. Miss Limbird is at the desk, deep in accounts.

Miss Moon.

[To the young lady.] You won't have them too red, will you?

Young Lady.

Not too red—nicely flushed.

First Gentleman.

[Examining his nails critically as he rises.] I say though, that's a vast improvement!

Miss Claridge.

Getting more shapely, aren't they?

First Gentleman.

Thanks awfully.

[He pays Miss Limbird, stands talking to her for a while, and ultimately strolls away through the opening in the partition. After putting her table in order, Miss Claridge goes out the same way, carrying her bowl of water and towel.

Miss Moon.

[To the young lady.] Have you had your hand read yet, madam, by any of these palmists?

Young Lady.

Heavens, yes! I've been twice to that woman Bernstein, and I don't know how often to Chiron.

Miss Moon.

Ah, you ought to try Valma.

Young Lady.

Valma?

Miss Moon.

He's the latest. Ladies are flocking to him.

Young Lady.

Really?

Miss Moon.

Yes. Such taking manners.

Young Lady.

Where does he—?

Miss Moon.

186—next door. [Indicating the window on the left.] You can see his waiting-room from that window.

Young Lady.

Is he a guinea or half a guinea?

Miss Moon.

Oh, he's a guinea.

Young Lady.

That's a bore.

Miss Moon.

Ah, but consider, madam—his rooms are draped from ceiling to floor in blue velvet. Blue velvet! fancy! Not that I've had the privilege of viewing them myself; Miss F. is our authority.

Young Lady.

Miss F.?

Miss Moon.

I beg your pardon—Miss Fullgarney. Valma is quite neighbourly with Miss Fullgarney.

[A door-gong sounds—as it does every time any one enters or quits the establishment—signifying that the first gentleman has departed.

Second Gentleman.

[Rising.] Much obliged. [Putting a tip into Miss Huddle's hand.] For yourself.

Miss Huddle.

Much obliged to you.

Second Gentleman.

You're a fresh face here?

Miss Huddle.

Yes; I used to be with Mossu and Madame Roget in Mortimer Street.

Second Gentleman.

I'll ask for you next time. What name?

Miss Huddle.

Miss Huddle.

Second Gentleman.

Huddle?

Miss Huddle.

Well, p'r'aps you'd better ask for Miss Hud-delle; I fancy Miss Fullgarney is going to alter me to that.

Second Gentleman.

[With a nod.] Goo'-bye.

Miss Huddle.

Good-day, sir.

[He pays Miss Limbird and goes out. The maid rises and hands the young lady her gloves.

Miss Moon.

[Taking a card from the mirror.] Would you like a card of Valma's, madam, just to remind you?

Young Lady.

[Accepting the card and reading it.] "Valma. Palmist. Professor of the Sciences of Chiromancy and Chirognomy. 186 New Bond Street." [Giving the card to her maid.] Keep that.

[The door-gong sounds.

Miss Moon.

[Opening a window.] Look, madam. That's one of his rooms; the window there—the open one—

Young Lady.

Yes, I see. Thanks. Good-morning.

Miss Moon.

Good morning.

[The young lady pays Miss Limbird and goes, followed by her maid.]


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