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diff --git a/26534-h/26534-h.htm b/26534-h/26534-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8d48327 --- /dev/null +++ b/26534-h/26534-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9974 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> +<title> +The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Girl from Sunset Ranch, by Amy Bell Marlowe. +</title> + +<style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.2em;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:0.8em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + .blockquot {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;} + table p {text-align:center; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:0;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + div.ra p {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size:1.4em;} +// --> +/* XML end ]]>*/ +</style> + +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Girl from Sunset Ranch, by Amy Bell Marlowe + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Girl from Sunset Ranch + Alone in a Great City + +Author: Amy Bell Marlowe + +Release Date: September 5, 2008 [EBook #26534] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM SUNSET RANCH *** + + + + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>THE GIRL FROM SUNSET RANCH</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<table style="margin: auto; border: black 1px solid; font-size:0.8em;" summary='books for girls'> + +<tr><td align='center'> + <p><span style='font-size:1.2em;'>BOOKS FOR GIRLS</span><br /> + <i>By</i> AMY BELL MARLOWE<br /> + 12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td style='padding-left:1em; padding-right:1em;'> + <p>THE OLDEST OF FOUR<br /> + Or Natalie's Way Out<br /> + THE GIRLS OF HILLCREST FARM<br /> + Or The Secret of the Rocks<br /> + A LITTLE MISS NOBODY<br /> + Or With the Girls of Pinewood Hall<br /> + THE GIRL FROM SUNSET RANCH<br /> + Or Alone in a Great City<br /> + WYN'S CAMPING DAYS<br /> + Or The Outing of the Go-Ahead Club<br /> + FRANCES OF THE RANGES<br /> + Or The Old Ranchman's Treasure<br /> + THE GIRLS OF RIVERCLIFF SCHOOL<br /> + Or Beth Baldwin's Resolve</p> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td> + <hr style='width:5em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black;' /> +</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='center'>THE ORIOLE BOOKS</td></tr> + +<tr><td style='padding-left:1em; padding-right:1em;'> + WHEN ORIOLE CAME TO HARBOR LIGHT<br /> + WHEN ORIOLE TRAVELED WESTWARD +</td></tr> + +<tr><td align='center'> + <p>(Other volumes in preparation)<br /> + GROSSET & DUNLAP<br /> + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</p> +</td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 314px; height: 495px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 314px;'> +“CAB, MISS? TAKE YOU ANYWHERE YOU SAY.”<br /> +<i>Frontispiece (Page 67)</i>.<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<table style="margin: auto; border: double;" summary=""> +<col style="width:9%;" /> +<col style="width:82%;" /> +<col style="width:9%;" /> +<tr><td> </td> +<td> +<p style="font-size:2.2em; margin-top:1em">THE GIRL FROM</p> +<p style="font-size:2.2em; margin-bottom:0.4em;">SUNSET RANCH</p> +<p style="font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:1.5em;">OR</p> +<p style="font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;">ALONE IN A GREAT CITY</p> +<p style="font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:1em;">BY</p> +<p style="font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;">AMY BELL MARLOWE</p> +<p style="font-size:0.8em;">AUTHOR OF</p> +<p style="font-size:0.8em;">THE OLDEST OF FOUR, THE GIRLS OF HILLCREST</p> +<p style="font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;">FARM, WYN'S CAMPING DAYS, ETC.</p> +<p style="font-size:1.1em; margin-bottom:2em;">Illustrated</p> +<p style="font-size:0.8em;">NEW YORK</p> +<p style="font-size:1.2em;">GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<p style="font-size:0.8em; margin-bottom:2em;">PUBLISHERS</p> +</td> +<td> </td></tr> +</table> + +<p style='font-size:0.8em; text-align:center;'>Made in the United States of America</p> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Copyright</span>, 1914, <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>by</span></p> +<p>GROSSET & DUNLAP</p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p><i>The Girl from Sunset Ranch</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>CONTENTS</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Snuggy” and the Rose Pony</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I__SNUGGY__AND_THE_ROSE_PONY'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dudley Stone</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_DUDLEY_STONE'>14</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Mistress Of Sunset Ranch</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_THE_MISTRESS_OF_SUNSET_RANCH'>26</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Headed East</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_HEADED_EAST'>36</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>At Both Ends Of The Route</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_AT_BOTH_ENDS_OF_THE_ROUTE'>45</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Across The Continent</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_ACROSS_THE_CONTINENT'>56</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Great City</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_THE_GREAT_CITY'>65</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Welcome</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_THE_WELCOME'>72</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Ghost Walk</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_THE_GHOST_WALK'>83</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Morning</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_MORNING'>92</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Living Up To One’s Reputation</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_LIVING_UP_TO_ONE_S_REPUTATION'>102</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“I Must Learn The Truth”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII__I_MUST_LEARN_THE_TRUTH'>111</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Sadie Again</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_SADIE_AGAIN'>128</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A New World</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_A_NEW_WORLD'>142</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Step—Put; Step—Put”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV__STEP_PUT_STEP_PUT'>152</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Forgotten</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_FORGOTTEN'>164</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Distinct Shock</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_A_DISTINCT_SHOCK'>176</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Probing For Facts</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_PROBING_FOR_FACTS'>196</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“Jones”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIX__JONES'>204</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Out Of Step With The Times</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XX_OUT_OF_STEP_WITH_THE_TIMES'>216</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Breaking The Ice</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXI_BREAKING_THE_ICE'>227</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In The Saddle</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXII_IN_THE_SADDLE'>238</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>My Lady Bountiful</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIII_MY_LADY_BOUNTIFUL'>252</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Hat Shop</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIV_THE_HAT_SHOP'>262</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXV.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Missing Link</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXV_THE_MISSING_LINK'>271</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVI.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Their Eyes Are Opened</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVI_THEIR_EYES_ARE_OPENED'>279</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Party</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVII_THE_PARTY'>287</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXVIII.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Statement Of Fact</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXVIII_A_STATEMENT_OF_FACT'>304</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXIX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>“The Whip Hand”</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXIX__THE_WHIP_HAND'>311</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XXX.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Headed West</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XXX_HEADED_WEST'>317</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-top:2em;'>THE GIRL FROM SUNSET</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em;'>RANCH</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I__SNUGGY__AND_THE_ROSE_PONY' id='I__SNUGGY__AND_THE_ROSE_PONY'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>“SNUGGY” AND THE ROSE PONY</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Hi, Rose! Up, girl! There’s another party +making for the View by the far path. Get a move +on, Rosie.”</p> +<p>The strawberry roan tossed her cropped mane +and her dainty little hoofs clattered more quickly +over the rocky path which led up from the far-reaching +grazing lands of Sunset Ranch to the +summit of the rocky eminence that bounded the +valley upon the east.</p> +<p>To the west lay a great, rolling plain, covered +with buffalo grass and sage; and dropping down +the arc of the sky was the setting sun, ruddy-countenanced, +whose almost level rays played full +upon the face of the bluff up which the pony +climbed so nimbly.</p> +<p>“On, Rosie, girl!” repeated the rider. “Don’t +let him get to the View before us. I don’t see +why anybody would wish to go there,” she added, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span> +with a jealous pang, “for it was father’s favorite +outlook. None of our boys, I am sure, would +come up here at this hour.”</p> +<p>Helen Morrell was secure in this final opinion. +It was but a short month since Prince Morrell had +gone down under the hoofs of the steers in an unfortunate +stampede that had cost the Sunset Ranch +much beside the life of its well-liked owner.</p> +<p>The View—a flat table of rock on the summit +overlooking the valley—had become almost sacred +in the eyes of the punchers of Sunset Ranch since +Mr. Morrell’s death. For it was to that spot the +ranchman had betaken himself—usually with his +daughter—on almost every fair evening, to overlook +the valley and count the roaming herds which +grazed under his brand.</p> +<p>Helen, who was sixteen and of sturdy build, +could see the nearer herds now dotting the plain. +She had her father’s glasses slung over her shoulder, +and she had come to-night partly for the purpose +of spying out the strays along the watercourses +or hiding in the distant <i>coulées</i>.</p> +<p>But mainly her visit to the View was because +her father had loved to ride here. She could think +about him here undisturbed by the confusion and +bustle at the ranch-house. And there were some +things—things about her father and the sad conversation +they had had together before his taking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +away—that Helen wanted to speculate upon alone.</p> +<p>The boys had picked him up after the accident +and brought him home; and doctors had been +brought all the way from Helena to do what they +could for him. But Mr. Morrell had suffered +many bruises and broken bones, and there had been +no hope for him from the first.</p> +<p>He was not, however, always unconscious. He +was a masterful man and he refused to take drugs +to deaden the pain.</p> +<p>“Let me know what I am about until I meet +death,” he had whispered. “I—am—not—afraid.”</p> +<p>And yet, there was one thing of which he had +been sorely afraid. It was the thought of leaving +his daughter alone.</p> +<p>“Oh, Snuggy!” he groaned, clinging to the +girl’s plump hand with his own weak one. “If +there were some of your own kind to—to leave you +with. A girl like you needs women about—good +women, and refined women. Squaws, and Greasers, +and half-breeds aren’t the kind of women-folk +your mother was brought up among.</p> +<p>“I don’t know but I’ve done wrong these past +few years—since your mother died, anyway. I’ve +been making money here, and it’s all for you, +Snuggy. That’s fixed by the lawyer in Elberon.</p> +<p>“Big Hen Billings is executor and guardian of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +you and the ranch. I know I can trust him. But +there ought to be nice women and girls for you +to live with—like those girls who went to school +with you the four years you were in Denver.</p> +<p>“Yet, this is your home. And your money is +going to be made here. It would be a crime to +sell out now.</p> +<p>“Ah, Snuggy! Snuggy! If your mother had +only lived!” groaned Mr. Morrell. “A woman +knows what’s right for a girl better than a man. +This is a rough place out here. And even the best +of our friends and neighbors are crude. You want +refinement, and pretty dresses, and soft beds, and +fine furniture——”</p> +<p>“No, no, Father! I love Sunset Ranch just +as it is,” Helen declared, wiping away her tears.</p> +<p>“Aye. ’Tis a beauty spot—the beauty spot of +all Montana, I believe,” agreed the dying man. +“But you need something more than a beautiful +landscape.”</p> +<p>“But there are true hearts here—all our +friends!” cried Helen.</p> +<p>“And so they are—God bless them!” responded +Prince Morrell, fervently. “But, +Snuggy, you were born to something better than +being a ‘cowgirl.’ Your mother was a refined +woman. I have forgotten most of my college education; +but I had it once. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span></p> +<p>“<i>This</i> was not our original environment. It +was not meant that we should be shut away from +all the gentler things of life, and live rudely +as we have. Unhappy circumstances did that +for us.”</p> +<p>He was silent for a moment, his face working +with suppressed emotion. Suddenly his grasp +tightened on the girl’s hand and he continued:</p> +<p>“Snuggy! I’m going to tell you something. +It’s something you ought to know, I believe. Your +mother was made unhappy by it, and I wouldn’t +want a knowledge of it to come upon you unaware, +in the after time when you are alone. Let me tell +you with my own lips, girl.”</p> +<p>“Why, Father, what is it?”</p> +<p>“Your father’s name is under a cloud. There is +a smirch on my reputation. I—I ran away from +New York to escape arrest, and I have lived here +in the wilderness, without communicating with old +friends and associates, because I did not want the +matter stirred up.”</p> +<p>“Afraid of arrest, Father?” gasped Helen.</p> +<p>“For your mother’s sake, and for yours,” he +said. “She couldn’t have borne it. It would have +killed her.”</p> +<p>“But you were not guilty, Father!” cried +Helen.</p> +<p>“How do you know I wasn’t?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span></p> +<p>“Why, Father, you could never have done anything +dishonorable or mean—I know you could +not!”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Snuggy!” the dying man replied, +with a smile hovering about his pain-drawn lips. +“You’ve been the greatest comfort a father ever +had, ever since you was a little, cuddly baby, and +liked to snuggle up against father under the +blankets.</p> +<p>“That was before the big ranch-house was +built, and we lived in a shack. I don’t know how +your mother managed to stand it, winters. <i>You</i> +just snuggled into my arms under the blankets—that’s +how we came to call you ‘Snuggy.’”</p> +<p>“‘Snuggy’ is a good name, Dad,” she declared. +“I love it, because <i>you</i> love it. And I know I +gave you comfort when I was little.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, yes! <i>What</i> a comfort you were after +your poor mother died, Snuggy! Ah, well! you +shall have your reward, dear. I am sure of that. +Only I am worried that you should be left alone +now.”</p> +<p>“Big Hen and the boys will take care of me,” +Helen said, stifling her sobs.</p> +<p>“Nay, but you need women-folk about. Your +mother’s sister, now—The Starkweathers, if +they knew, might offer you a home.”</p> +<p>“That is, Aunt Eunice’s folks?” asked Helen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +“I remember mother speaking of Aunt Eunice.”</p> +<p>“Yes. She corresponded with Eunice until her +death. Of course, we haven’t heard from them +since. The Starkweathers naturally did not wish +to keep up a close acquaintanceship with me after +what happened.”</p> +<p>“But, dear Dad! you haven’t told me what happened. +<i>Do</i> tell me!” begged the anxious girl.</p> +<p>Then the girl’s dying father told her of the +looted bank account of Grimes & Morrell. The +cash assets of the firm had suddenly disappeared. +Circumstantial evidence pointed at Prince Morrell. +His partner and Starkweather, who had a small +interest in the firm, showed their doubt of him. +The creditors were clamorous and ugly. The +bookkeeper of the firm disappeared.</p> +<p>“They advised me to go away for a while; your +mother was delicate and the trouble was wearing +her into her grave. And so,” Mr. Morrell said, +in a shaking voice, “I ran away. We came out +here. You were born in this valley, Snuggy. We +hoped at first to take you back to New York, where +all the mystery would be explained. But that time +never came.</p> +<p>“Neither Starkweather, nor Grimes, seemed +able to help me with advice or information. Gradually +I got into the cattle business here. I prospered +here, while Fenwick Grimes prospered in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +New York. I understand he is a very wealthy +man.</p> +<p>“Soon after we came out here your Uncle +Starkweather fell heir to a big property and moved +into a mansion on Madison Avenue. He, and his +wife, and the three girls—Belle, Hortense and +Flossie—have everything heart could desire.</p> +<p>“And they have all I want my Snuggy to have,” +groaned Mr. Morrell. “They have refinement, +and books, and music, and all the things that make +life worth living for a woman.”</p> +<p>“But I <i>love</i> Sunset Ranch!” cried Helen again.</p> +<p>“Aye. But I watched your mother. I know +how much she missed the gentler things she had +been brought up to. Had I been able to pay off +those old creditors while she was alive, she might +have gone back.</p> +<p>“And yet,” the ranchman sighed, “the stigma is +there. The blot is still on your father’s name, +Snuggy. People in New York still believe that I +was dishonest. They believe that with the proceeds +of my dishonesty I came out here and went +into the cattle business.</p> +<p>“You see, my dear? Even the settling with our +old creditors—the creditors of Grimes & Morrell—made +suspicion wag her tongue more eagerly +than ever. I paid every cent, with interest compounded +to the date of settlement. Grimes had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span> +long since had himself cleared of his debts and +started over again. I do not know even that he +and Starkweather know that I have been able to +clear up the whole matter.</p> +<p>“However, as I say, the stain upon my reputation +remains. I could never explain my flight. I +could never imagine what became of the money. +Somebody embezzled it, and <i>I</i> was the one who +ran away. Do you see, my dear?”</p> +<p>And Helen told him that she <i>did</i> see, and +assured him again and again of her entire trust in +his honor. But Mr. Morrell died with the +worry of the old trouble—the trouble that had +driven him across the continent—heavy upon his +mind.</p> +<p>And now it was serving to make Helen’s mind +most uneasy. The crime of which her father had +been accused was continually in her thoughts.</p> +<p>Who had really been guilty of the embezzlement? +The bookkeeper, who disappeared? Fenwick +Grimes, the partner? Or, <i>Who?</i></p> +<p>As the Rose pony—her own favorite mount—took +Helen Morrell up the bluff path to the View +on this evening, the remembrance of this long +talk with her father before he died was running in +the girl’s mind.</p> +<p>Perhaps she was a girl who would naturally be +more seriously impressed than most, at sixteen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +She had been brought up among older people. +She was a wise little thing when she was a mere +toddler.</p> +<p>And after her mother’s death she had been her +father’s daily companion until she was old enough +to be sent away to be educated. The four long +terms at the Denver school had carried Helen +Morrell (for she had a quick mind) through those +grades which usually prepare girls for college.</p> +<p>When she came back after graduation, however, +she saw that her father needed her companionship +more than she needed college. And, +again, she was too domestic by nature to really +long for a higher education.</p> +<p>She was glad now—oh! so glad—that she had +remained at Sunset Ranch during these last few +months. Her father had died with her arms +about him. As far as he could be comforted, +Helen had comforted him.</p> +<p>But now, as she rode up the rocky trail, she +murmured to herself:</p> +<p>“If I could only clear dad’s name!”</p> +<p>Again she raised her eyes and saw a buckskin +pony and its rider getting nearer and nearer to the +summit.</p> +<p>“Get on, Rose!” she exclaimed. “That chap +will beat us out. Who under the sun can he +be?”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-010.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 309px; height: 490px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 309px;'> +“HELEN CREPT ON HANDS AND KNEES TO THE EDGE OF THE BLUFF.”<br /> +(Page 14)<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></div> +<p>She was sure the rider of the buckskin was no +Sunset puncher. Yet he seemed garbed in the +usual chaps, sombrero, flannel shirt and gay neckerchief +of the cowpuncher.</p> +<p>“And there isn’t another band of cattle nearer +than Froghole,” thought the girl, adjusting her +body to the Rose pony’s quickened gait.</p> +<p>She did not know it, but she was quite as much +an object of interest to the strange rider as he +was to her. And it was worth while watching +Helen Morrell ride a pony.</p> +<p>The deep brown of her cheek was relieved by +a glow of healthful red. Her thick plaits of hair +were really sunburned; her thick eyebrows were +startlingly light compared with her complexion.</p> +<p>Her eyes were dark gray, with little golden +lights playing in them; they seemed fairly to +twinkle when she laughed. Her lips were as red as +ripe sumac berries; her nose, straight, long, and +generously moulded, was really her handsomest +feature, for of course her hair covered her dainty +ears more or less.</p> +<p>From the rolling collar of her blouse her neck +rose firm and solid—as strong-looking as a boy’s. +She was plump of body, with good shoulders, a +well-developed arm, and her ornamented russet +riding boots, with a tiny silver spur in each heel, +covered very pretty and very small feet. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></p> +<p>Her hand, if plump, was small, too; but the +gauntlets she wore made it seem larger and more +mannish than it was. She rode as though she were +a part of the pony.</p> +<p>She had urged on the strawberry roan and now +came out upon the open plateau at the top of the +bluff just as the buckskin mounted to the same level +from the other side.</p> +<p>The rock called “the View” was nearer to the +stranger than to herself. It overhung the very +steepest drop of the eminence.</p> +<p>Helen touched Rose with the spur, and the pony +whisked her tail and shot across the uneven sward +toward the big boulder where Helen and her father +had so often stood to survey the rolling acres of +Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>Whether the stranger on the buckskin thought +her mount had bolted with her, Helen did not +know. But she heard him cry out, saw him +swing his hat, and the buckskin started on a hard +gallop along the verge of the precipice toward +the very goal for which the Rose pony was headed.</p> +<p>“The foolish fellow! He’ll be killed!” gasped +Helen, in sudden fright. “That soil there crumbles +like cheese! There! He’s down!”</p> +<p>She saw the buckskin’s forefoot sink. The brute +stumbled and rolled over—fortunately for the +pony <i>away</i> from the cliff’s edge. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>But the buckskin’s rider was hurled into the +air. He sprawled forward like a frog diving and—without +touching the ground—passed over the +brink of the precipice and disappeared from +Helen’s startled gaze.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_DUDLEY_STONE' id='II_DUDLEY_STONE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>DUDLEY STONE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The victim of the accident made no sound. No +scream rose from the depths after he disappeared. +The buckskin pony rolled over, scrambled +to its feet, and cantered off across the plateau.</p> +<p>Helen Morrell had swerved her own mount farther +to the south and came to the edge of the +caved-in bit of bank with a rush of hoofs that +ended in a wild scramble as she bore down upon +the Rose pony’s bit.</p> +<p>She was out of her saddle, and had flung the +reins over Rose’s head, on the instant. The well-trained +pony stood like a rock.</p> +<p>The girl, her heart beating tumultuously, crept +on hands and knees to the crumbling edge of the +bluff.</p> +<p>She knew its scarred face well. There were outcropping +boulders, gravel pits, ledges of shale, +brush clumps and a few ragged trees clinging +tenaciously to the water-worn gullies.</p> +<p>She expected to see the man crushed and bleeding +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span> +on some rock below. Perhaps he had rolled +clear to the bottom.</p> +<p>But as her swift gaze searched the face of the +bluff, there was no rock, splotched with red, in her +line of vision. Then she saw something in the +top of one of the trees, far down.</p> +<p>It was the yellow handkerchief which the stranger +had worn. It fluttered in the evening breeze +like a flag of distress.</p> +<p>“E-e-e-<i>yow!</i>” cried Helen, making a horn of +her hands as she leaned over the edge of the precipice, +and uttering the puncher’s signal call.</p> +<p>“E-e-e-<i>yow!</i>” came up a faint reply.</p> +<p>She saw the green top of the tree stir. Then +a face—scratched and streaked with blood—appeared.</p> +<p>“For the love of heaven!” called a thin voice. +“Get somebody with a rope. I’ve got to have +some help.”</p> +<p>“I have a rope right here. Pass it under your +arms, and I’ll swing you out of that tree-top,” +replied Helen, promptly.</p> +<p>She jumped up and went to the pony. Her rope—she +would no more think of traveling without +it than would one of the Sunset punchers—was +coiled at the saddlebow.</p> +<p>Running back to the verge of the bluff she +planted her feet on a firm boulder and dropped the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +coil into the depths. In a moment it was in the +hands of the man below.</p> +<p>“Over your head and shoulders!” she cried.</p> +<p>“You can never hold me!” he called back, +faintly.</p> +<p>“You do as you’re told!” she returned, in a +severe tone. “I’ll hold you—don’t you fear.”</p> +<p>She had already looped her end of the rope over +the limb of a tree that stood rooted upon the brink +of the bluff. With such a purchase she would be +able to hold all the rope itself would hold.</p> +<p>“Ready!” she called down to him.</p> +<p>“All right! Here I swing!” was the reply.</p> +<p>Leaning over the brink, rather breathless, it +must be confessed, the girl from Sunset Ranch saw +him swing out of the top of the tree.</p> +<p>The tree-top was all of seventy feet from its +roots. If he slipped now he would suffer a fall +that surely would kill him.</p> +<p>But he was able to help himself. Although he +crashed once against the side of the bluff and set +a bushel of gravel rattling down, in a moment he +gained foothold on a ledge. There he stood, +wavering until she paid off a little of the line. +Then he dropped down to get his breath.</p> +<p>“Are you safe?” she shouted down to him.</p> +<p>“Sure! I can sit here all night.”</p> +<p>“You don’t want to, I suppose?” she asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span></p> +<p>“Not so’s you’d notice it. I guess I can get +down after a fashion.”</p> +<p>“Hurt bad?”</p> +<p>“It’s my foot, mostly—right foot. I believe it’s +sprained, or broken. It’s sort of in the way when I +move about.”</p> +<p>“Your face looks as if that tree had combed it +some,” commented Helen.</p> +<p>“Never mind,” replied the youth. “Beauty’s +only skin deep, at best. And I’m not proud.”</p> +<p>She could not see him very well, for the sun had +dropped so low that down where he lay the face +of the bluff was in shadow.</p> +<p>“Well, what are you going to do? Climb up, +or down?”</p> +<p>“I believe getting down would be easier—’specially +if you let me use your rope.”</p> +<p>“Sure!”</p> +<p>“But then, there’d be my pony. I couldn’t get +him with this foot——”</p> +<p>“I’ll catch him. My Rose can run down anything +on four legs in these parts,” declared the +girl, briskly.</p> +<p>“And can you get down here to the foot of this +cliff where I’m bound to land?”</p> +<p>“Yes. I know the way in the dark. Got +matches?”</p> +<p>“Yes.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span></p> +<p>“Then you build some kind of a smudge when +you reach the bottom. That’ll show me where +you are. Now I’m going to drop the rope to you. +Look out it doesn’t get tangled.”</p> +<p>“All right! Let ’er come!”</p> +<p>“I’ll have to leave you if I’m to catch that buckskin +before it gets dark, stranger. You’ll get +along all right?” she added.</p> +<p>“Surest thing you know!”</p> +<p>She dropped the rope. He gathered it in +quickly and then uttered a cheerful shout.</p> +<p>“All clear?” asked Helen.</p> +<p>“Don’t worry about me. I’m all right,” he +assured her.</p> +<p>Helen leaped back to her waiting pony. Already +the golden light was dying out of the sky. +Up here in the foothills the “evening died hard” +as the saying is; but the buckskin pony had romped +clear across the plateau. He was now, indeed, out +of sight.</p> +<p>She whirled Rose about and set off at a gallop +after the runaway. It was not until then that she +remembered she had no rope. That buckskin +would have to be fairly run down. There would +be no roping him.</p> +<p>“But if you can’t do it, no other horsie can,” +she said, aloud, patting the Rose pony on her arching +neck. “Go it, girl! Let’s see if we can’t beat +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +any miserable little buckskin that ever came into +this country. A strawberry roan forever!”</p> +<p>Her “E-e-e-yow! yow!” awoke the pony to +desperate endeavor. She seemed to merely skim +the dry grass of the open plateau, and in ten minutes +Helen saw a riderless mount plunging up the +side of a <i>coulée</i> far ahead.</p> +<p>“There he goes!” cried the girl. “After him, +Rosie! Make your pretty hoofs fly!”</p> +<p>The excitement of the chase roused in Helen +that feeling of freedom and confidence that is a +part of life on the plains. Those who live +much in the open air, and especially in the saddle, +seldom think of failure.</p> +<p>She knew she was going to catch the runaway +pony. Such an idea as non-success never entered +her mind. This was the first hard riding she had +done since Mr. Morrell died; and now her +thoughts expanded and she shook off the hopeless +feeling which had clouded her young heart and +mind since they had buried her father.</p> +<p>While she rode on, and rode hard, after the +fleeing buckskin her revived thought kept time +with the pony’s hoofbeats.</p> +<p>No longer did the old tune run in her head: +“If I only <i>could</i> clear dad’s name!” Instead +the drum of confidence beat a charge to arms: “I +know I <i>can</i> clear his name! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span></p> +<p>“To think of poor dad living out here all +these years, with suspicion resting on his reputation +back there in New York. And he wasn’t +guilty! It was that partner of his, or that bookkeeper, +who was guilty. That is the secret of it,” +Helen told herself.</p> +<p>“I’ll go back East and find out all about it,” +determined the girl, as her pony carried her +swiftly over the ground. “Up, Rose! There he +is! Don’t let him get away from us!”</p> +<p>Her interest in the chase of the buckskin pony +and in the mystery of her father’s trouble ran side +by side.</p> +<p>“On, on!” she urged Rose. “Why shouldn’t +I go East? Big Hen can run the ranch well +enough. And there are my cousins—and auntie. +If Aunt Eunice resembles mother——</p> +<p>“Go it, Rose! There’s our quarry!”</p> +<p>She stooped forward in the saddle, and as the +Rose pony, running like the wind, passed the now +staggering buckskin, Helen snatched the dragging +rein, and pulled the runaway around to follow in +her own wake.</p> +<p>“Hush, now! Easy!” she commanded her +mount, who obeyed her voice quite as well as +though she had tugged at the reins. “Now we’ll +go back quietly and trail this useless one along +with us. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span></p> +<p>“Come up, Buck! Easy, Rose!” So she +urged them into the same gait, returning in a +wide circle toward the path up which she had +climbed before the sun went down—the trail to +Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>“Yes! I can do it!” she cried, thinking aloud. +“I can and will go to New York. I’ll find out +all about that old trouble. Uncle Starkweather +can tell me, probably.</p> +<p>“And then it will please father.” She spoke as +though Mr. Morrell was sure to know her decision. +“He will like it if I go to live with them +a spell. He said it is what I need—the refining +influence of a nice home.</p> +<p>“And I <i>would</i> love to be with nice girls again—and +to hear good music—and put on something +beside a riding skirt when I go out of the +house.”</p> +<p>She sighed. “One cannot have a cow ranch and +all the fripperies of civilization, too. Not very +well. I—I guess I am longing for the flesh-pots +of Egypt. Perhaps poor dad did, too. Well, I’ll +give them a whirl. I’ll go East——</p> +<p>“Why, where’s that fellow’s fire?”</p> +<p>She was descending the trail into the pall of +dusk that had now spread over the valley. Far +away she caught a glimmer of light—a lantern on +the porch at the ranch-house. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +But right below here where she wished to see a +light, there was not a spark.</p> +<p>“I hope nothing’s happened to him,” she +mused. “I don’t believe he is one of us; if he had +been he wouldn’t have raced a pony so close to +the edge of the bluff.”</p> +<p>She began to “co-ee! co-ee!” as the ponies clattered +down the remainder of the pathway. And +finally there came an answering shout. Then a +little glimmer of light flashed up—again and yet +again.</p> +<p>“Matches!” grumbled Helen. “Can’t he find +anything dry to burn down there and so make a +steady light?”</p> +<p>She shouted again.</p> +<p>“This way, Miss!” she heard the stranger +cry.</p> +<p>The ponies picked their way carefully over the +loose shale that had fallen to the foot of the bluff. +There were trees, too, to make the way darker.</p> +<p>“Hi!” cried Helen. “Why didn’t you light a +fire?”</p> +<p>“Why, to tell you the truth, I had some difficulty +in getting down here, and I—I had to +rest.”</p> +<p>The words were followed by a groan that the +young man evidently could not suppress.</p> +<p>“Why, you’re more badly hurt than you said!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +cried the girl. “I’d better get help; hadn’t +I?”</p> +<p>“A doctor is out of the question, I guess. I +believe that foot’s broken.”</p> +<p>“Huh! You’re from the East!” she said, suddenly.</p> +<p>“How so?”</p> +<p>“You say ‘guess’ in that funny way. And that +explains it.”</p> +<p>“Explains what?”</p> +<p>“Your riding so recklessly.”</p> +<p>“My goodness!” exclaimed the other, with a +short laugh. “I thought the whole West was +noted for reckless riding.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no. It only <i>looks</i> reckless,” she returned, +quietly. “Our boys wouldn’t ride a pony close +to the edge of a steep descent like that up yonder.”</p> +<p>“All right. I’m in the wrong,” admitted the +stranger. “But you needn’t rub it in.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t mean to,” said Helen, quickly. “I +have a bad habit of talking out loud.”</p> +<p>He laughed at that. “You’re frank, you mean? +I like that. Be frank enough to tell me how I am +to get back to Badger’s—even on ponyback—to-night?”</p> +<p>“Impossible,” declared Helen.</p> +<p>“Then, perhaps I <i>had</i> better make an effort +to make camp.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span></p> +<p>“Why, no! It’s only a few miles to the ranch-house. +I’ll hoist you up on your pony. The trail’s +easy.”</p> +<p>“Whose ranch is it?” he asked, with another +suppressed groan.</p> +<p>“Mine—Sunset Ranch.”</p> +<p>“Sunset Ranch! Why, I’ve heard of that. One +of the last big ranches remaining in Montana; +Isn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Almost as big as 101?”</p> +<p>“That’s right,” said Helen, briefly.</p> +<p>“But I didn’t know a girl owned it,” said the +other, curiously.</p> +<p>“She didn’t—until lately. My father, Prince +Morrell, has just died.”</p> +<p>“Oh!” exclaimed the other, in a softened tone. +“And you are Miss Morrell?”</p> +<p>“I am. And who are you? Easterner, of +course?”</p> +<p>“You guessed right—though, I suppose, you +‘reckon’ instead of ‘guess.’ I’m from New +York.”</p> +<p>“Is that so?” queried Helen. “That’s a +place I want to see before long.”</p> +<p>“Well, you’ll be disappointed,” remarked the +other. “My name is Dudley Stone, and I was +born and brought up in New York and have lived +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +there all my life until I got away for this trip +West. But, believe me, if I didn’t have to I would +never go back!”</p> +<p>“Why do you have to go back?” asked Helen, +simply.</p> +<p>“Business. Necessity of earning one’s living. +I’m in the way of being a lawyer—when my days +of studying, and all, are over. And then, I’ve +got a sister who might not fit into the mosaic of +this freer country, either.”</p> +<p>“Well, Dudley Stone,” quoth the girl from +Sunset Ranch, “we’d better not stay talking here. +It’s getting darker every minute. And I reckon +your foot needs attention.”</p> +<p>“I hate to move it,” confessed the young Easterner.</p> +<p>“You can’t stay here, you know,” insisted +Helen. “Where’s my rope?”</p> +<p>“I’m sorry. I had to hitch one end of it up +above and let myself down by it.”</p> +<p>“Well, it might have come in handy to lash you +on the pony. I don’t mind about the rope otherwise. +One of the boys will bring it in for me to-morrow. +Now, let’s see what we can do towards +hoisting you into your saddle.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_THE_MISTRESS_OF_SUNSET_RANCH' id='III_THE_MISTRESS_OF_SUNSET_RANCH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>THE MISTRESS OF SUNSET RANCH</h3> +</div> + +<p>Dudley Stone had begun to peer wonderingly +at this strange girl. When he had first sighted +her riding her strawberry roan across the plateau +he supposed her to be a little girl—and really, +physically, she did not seem much different from +what he had first supposed.</p> +<p>But she handled this situation with all the calmness +and good sense of a much older person. She +spoke like the men and women he had met during +his sojourn in the West, too.</p> +<p>Yet, when he was close to her, he saw that she +was simply a young girl with good health, good +muscles, and a rather pretty face and figure. He +called her “Miss” because it seemed to flatter +her; but Dud Stone felt himself infinitely older +than this girl of Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>It was she who went about getting him aboard +the pony, however; he never could have done it +by himself. Nor was it so easily done as said.</p> +<p>In the first place, the badly trained buckskin +didn’t want to stand still. And the young man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +was in such pain that he really was unable to aid +Helen in securing the pony.</p> +<p>“Here, you take Rose,” commanded the girl, +at length. “She’d stand for anything. Up you +come, now, sir!”</p> +<p>The young fellow was no weakling. But when +he put one arm over the girl’s strong shoulder, and +was hoisted erect, she felt him quiver all over. She +knew that the pain he suffered must be intense.</p> +<p>“Whoa, Rose, girl!” commanded Helen. +“Back around! Now, sir, up with that lame leg. +It’s got to be done——”</p> +<p>“I know it!” he panted, and by a desperate +effort managed to get the broken foot over the +saddle.</p> +<p>“Up with you!” said Helen, and hoisted him +with a man’s strength into the saddle. “Are you +there?”</p> +<p>“Oh! Ouch! Yes,” returned the Easterner. “I’m +here. No knowing how long I’ll stick, though.”</p> +<p>“You’d better stick. Here! Put this foot in +the stirrup. Don’t suppose you can stand the other +in it?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no! I really couldn’t,” he exclaimed.</p> +<p>“Well, we’ll go slow. Hi, there! Come here, +you Buck!”</p> +<p>“He’s a vicious little scoundrel,” said the young +man. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></p> +<p>“He ought to have a course of sprouts under +one of our wranglers,” remarked the girl from +Sunset Ranch. “Now let’s go along.”</p> +<p>Despite the buckskin’s dancing and cavorting, +she mounted, stuck the spurs into him a couple of +times, and the ill-mannered pony decided that walking +properly was better than bucking.</p> +<p>“You’re a wonder!” exclaimed Dud Stone, admiringly.</p> +<p>“You haven’t been West long,” she replied, +with a smile. “Women folk out here aren’t much +afraid of horses.”</p> +<p>“I should say they were not—if you are a +specimen.”</p> +<p>“I’m just ordinary. I spent four school terms +in Denver, and I never rode there, so I kind +of lost the hang of it.”</p> +<p>Dud Stone was becoming anxious over another +matter.</p> +<p>“Are you sure you can find the trail when it’s +so dark?” he asked.</p> +<p>“We’re on it now,” she said.</p> +<p>“I’m glad you’re so sure,” he returned, grimly. +“I can’t see the ground, even.”</p> +<p>“But the ponies know, if I don’t,” observed +Helen, cheerfully. “Nothing to be afraid of.”</p> +<p>“I guess you think I <i>am</i> kind of a tenderfoot?” +he returned. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span></p> +<p>“You’re not used to night traveling on the cattle +range,” she said. “You see, we lay our courses +by the stars, just as mariners do at sea. I can find +my way to the ranch-house from clear beyond +Elberon, as long as the stars show.”</p> +<p>“Well,” he sighed, “this is some different +from riding on the bridle-path in Central +Park.”</p> +<p>“That’s in New York?” she asked.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“I mean to go there. It’s really a big city, I +suppose?”</p> +<p>“Makes Denver look like a village,” said Stone, +laughing to smother a groan.</p> +<p>“So father said.”</p> +<p>“You have people there, I hope?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Father and mother came from there. It +was before I was born, though. You see, I’m a +real Montana product.”</p> +<p>“And a mighty fine one!” he murmured. Then +he said aloud: “Well, as long as you’ve got folks +in the big city, it’s all right. But it’s the loneliest +place on God’s earth if one has no friends and +no confidants. I know that to be true from what +boys have told me who have come there from out +of town.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ve got folks,” said Helen, lightly. +“How’s the foot now?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span></p> +<p>“Bad,” he admitted. “It hangs loose, you +see——”</p> +<p>“Hold on!” commanded Helen, dismounting. +“We’ve a long way to travel yet. That foot must +be strapped so that it will ride easier. Wait!”</p> +<p>She handed him her rein to hold and went +around to the other side of the Rose pony. She +removed her belt, unhooked the empty holster +that hung from it, and slipped the holster into her +pocket. Few of the riders carried a gun on Sunset +Ranch unless the coyotes proved troublesome.</p> +<p>With her belt Helen strapped the dangling leg +to the saddle girth. The useless stirrup, that +flopped and struck the lame foot, she tucked up +out of the way.</p> +<p>With tender fingers she touched the wounded +foot. She could feel the fever through the boot.</p> +<p>“But you’d better keep your boot on till we get +home, Dud Stone,” advised Helen. “It will sort +of hold it together and perhaps keep the pain from +becoming greater than you can bear. But I guess +it hurts mighty bad.”</p> +<p>“It sure does, Miss Morrell,” he returned, +grimly. “Is—is the ranch far?”</p> +<p>“Some distance. And we’ve got to walk. But +bear up if you can——”</p> +<p>She saw him waver in the saddle. If he fell, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +she could not be sure just how Rose, the spirited +pony, would act.</p> +<p>“Say!” she said, coming around and walking +by his side, leading the other mount by the bridle. +“You lean on me. Don’t want you falling out of +the saddle. Too hard work to get you back +again.”</p> +<p>“I guess you think I <i>am</i> a tenderfoot!” muttered +young Stone.</p> +<p>He never knew how they reached Sunset Ranch. +The fall, the terrible wrench of his foot, and the +endurance of the pain was finally too much for him. +In a half-fainting condition he sank part of his +weight on the girl’s shoulder, and she sturdily +trudged along the rough trail, bearing him up until +she thought her own limbs would give way.</p> +<p>At last she even had to let the buckskin run at +large, he made her so much trouble. But the Rose +pony was “a dear!”</p> +<p>Somewhere about ten o’clock the dogs began to +bark. She saw the flash of lanterns and heard the +patter of hoofs.</p> +<p>She gave voice to the long range yell, and a +dozen anxious punchers replied. Great discussion +had arisen over where she could have gone, for +nobody had seen her ride off toward the View that +afternoon.</p> +<p>“Whar you been, gal?” demanded Big Hen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span> +Billings, bringing his horse to a sudden stop across +the trail. “Hul-<i>lo!</i> What’s that you got with +yer?”</p> +<p>“A tenderfoot. Easy, Hen! I’ve got his leg +strapped to the girth. He’s in bad shape,” and +she related, briefly, the particulars of the accident.</p> +<p>Dudley Stone had only a hazy recollection later +of the noise and confusion of his arrival. He was +borne into the house by two men—one of them the +ranch foreman himself.</p> +<p>They laid him on a couch, cut the boot from his +injured foot, and then the sock he wore.</p> +<p>Hen Billings, with bushy whiskers and the +frame of a giant, was nevertheless as tender with +the injured foot as a woman. Water with a +chunk of ice floating in it was used to reduce the +swelling. The foreman’s blunted fingers probed +for broken bones.</p> +<p>But it seemed there was none. It was only a +bad sprain, and they finally stripped him to his +underclothes and bandaged the foot with cloths +soaked with ice water.</p> +<p>When they got him into bed—in an adjoining +room—the young mistress of Sunset Ranch reappeared, +with a tray and napkins, with which she +arranged a table.</p> +<p>“That’s what he wants—some good grub under +his belt, Snuggy,” said the gigantic foreman, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +finally lighting his pipe. “He’ll be all right in a +few days. I’ll send word to Creeping Ford for +one of the boys to ride down to Badger’s and tell +’em. That’s where Mr. Stone says he’s been stopping.”</p> +<p>“You’re mighty kind,” said the Easterner, +gratefully, as Sing, the Chinese servant, shuffled in +with a steaming supper.</p> +<p>“We’re glad to have a chance to play Good +Samaritan in this part of the country,” said Helen, +laughing. “Isn’t that so, Hen?”</p> +<p>“That’s right, Snuggy,” replied the foreman, +patting her on the shoulder.</p> +<p>Dud Stone looked at Helen curiously, as the +big man strode out of the room.</p> +<p>“What an odd name!” he commented.</p> +<p>“My father called me that, when I was a +tiny baby,” replied the girl. “And I love it. All +my friends call me ‘Snuggy.’ At least, all my +ranch friends.”</p> +<p>“Well, it’s too soon for me to begin, I suppose?” +he said, laughing.</p> +<p>“Oh, quite too soon,” returned Helen, as composedly +as a person twice her age. “You had +better stick to ‘Miss Morrell,’ and remember that +I am the mistress of Sunset Ranch.”</p> +<p>“But I notice that you take liberties with <i>my</i> +name,” he said, quickly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span></p> +<p>“That’s different. You’re a man. Men around +here always shorten their names, or have nicknames. +If they call you by your full name that +means the boys don’t like you. And I liked you +from the start,” said the Western girl, quite +frankly.</p> +<p>“Thank you!” he responded, his eyes twinkling. +“I expect it must have been my fine riding +that attracted you.”</p> +<p>“No. Nor it wasn’t your city cowpuncher +clothes,” she retorted. “I know those things +weren’t bought farther West than Chicago.”</p> +<p>“A palpable hit!” admitted Dudley Stone.</p> +<p>“No. It was when you took that tumble into +the tree; was hanging on by your eyelashes, yet +could joke about it,” declared Helen, warmly.</p> +<p>She might have added, too, that now he had +been washed and his hair combed, he was an +attractive-looking young man. She did not believe +Dudley Stone was of age. His brown hair curled +tightly all over his head, and he sported a tiny +golden mustache. He had good color and was +somewhat bronzed.</p> +<p>Dud’s blue eyes were frank, his lips were red +and nicely curved; but his square chin took away +from the lower part of his face any suggestion of +effeminacy. His ears were generous, as was +his nose. He had the clean-cut, intelligent look +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span> +of the better class of educated Atlantic seaboard +youth.</p> +<p>There is a difference between them and the +young Westerner. The latter are apt to be hung +loosely, and usually show the effect of range-riding—at +least, back here in Montana. Whereas Dud +Stone was compactly built.</p> +<p>They chatted quite frankly while the patient +ate his supper. Dud found that, although Helen +used many Western idioms, and spoke with an +abruptness that showed her bringing up among +plain-spoken ranch people, she could, if she so +desired, use “school English” with good taste, +and gave other evidences in her conversation of +being quite conversant with the world of which he +was himself a part when he was at home.</p> +<p>“Oh, you would get along all right in New +York,” he said, laughing, when she suggested a +doubt as to the impression she might make upon +her relatives in the big town. “You’d not be half +the ‘tenderfoot’ there that I am here.”</p> +<p>“No? Then I reckon I can risk shocking +them,” laughed Helen, her gray eyes dancing.</p> +<p>This talk she had with Dud Stone on the evening +of his arrival confirmed the young mistress of +Sunset Ranch in her intention of going to the great +city.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_HEADED_EAST' id='IV_HEADED_EAST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>HEADED EAST</h3> +</div> + +<p>When Helen Morrell made up her mind to do +a thing, she usually did it. A cataclysm of nature +was about all that would thwart her determination.</p> +<p>This being yielded to and never thwarted, even +by her father, might have spoiled a girl of different +calibre. But there was a foundation of good +common sense to Helen’s nature.</p> +<p>“Snuggy won’t kick over the traces much,” +Prince Morrell had been wont to say.</p> +<p>“Right you are, Boss,” had declared Big Hen +Billings. “It’s usually safe to give her her head. +She’ll bring up somewhar.”</p> +<p>But when Helen mentioned her eastern trip to +the old foreman he came “purty nigh goin’ up in +th’ air his own se’f!” as he expressed it.</p> +<p>“What d’yer wanter do anythin’ like that air +for, Snuggy?” he demanded, in a horrified tone. +“Great jumping Jehosaphat! Ain’t this yere valley +big enough fo’ you?”</p> +<p>“Sometimes I think it’s too big,” admitted +Helen, laughing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span></p> +<p>“Well, by jo! you’ll fin’ city quarters close’t +’nough—an’ that’s no josh. Huh! Las’ time ever +I went to Chicago with a train-load of beeves I +went to see Kellup Flemming what useter work +here on this very same livin’ Sunset Ranch. You +don’t remember him. You was too little, +Snuggy.”</p> +<p>“I’ve heard you speak of him, Hen,” observed +the girl.</p> +<p>“Well, thar was Kellup, as smart a young feller +as you’d find in a day’s ride, livin’ with his +wife an’ kids in what he called a <i>flat</i>. Be-lieve me! +It was some perpendicular to git into, an’ no +<i>flat</i>.</p> +<p>“When we gits inside and inter what he called +his parlor, he looks around like he was proud of +it (By jo! I’d be afraid ter shrug my shoulders in +it, ’twas so small) an’ says he: ‘What d’ye think +of the ranch, Hen?’</p> +<p>“‘Ranch,’ mind yeh! I was plumb insulted. I +says: ‘It’s all right—what there is of it—only, +what’s that crack in the wall for, Kellup?’</p> +<p>“‘Sufferin’ tadpoles!’ yells Kellup—jest like +that! ‘Sufferin’ tadpoles! That ain’t no crack in +the wall. That’s our private hall.’</p> +<p>“Great jumping Jehosaphat!” exclaimed Hen, +roaring with laughter. “Yuh don’t wanter git +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +inter no place like that in New York. Can’t +breathe in the house.”</p> +<p>“I guess Uncle Starkweather lives in a little +better place than that,” said Helen, after laughing +with the old foreman. “His house is on Madison +Avenue.”</p> +<p>“Don’t care where it is; there natcherly won’t +be no such room in a city dwelling as there is here +at Sunset Ranch.”</p> +<p>“I suppose not,” admitted the girl.</p> +<p>“Huh! Won’t be room in the yard for a cow,” +growled Big Hen. “Nor chickens. Whatter yer +goin’ to do without a fresh aig, Snuggy?”</p> +<p>“I expect that will be pretty tough, Hen. But +I feel like I must go, you see,” said the girl, dropping +into the idiom of Sunset Ranch. “Dad +wanted me to.”</p> +<p>“The Boss <i>wanted</i> yuh to?” gasped the giant, +surprised.</p> +<p>“Yes, Hen.”</p> +<p>“He never said nothin’ to me about it,” declared +the foreman of Sunset Ranch, shaking his +bushy head.</p> +<p>“No? Didn’t he say anything about my being +with women folk, and under different circumstances?”</p> +<p>“Gosh, yes! But I reckoned on getting Mis’ +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +Polk and Mis’ Harry Frieze to take turns coming +over yere and livin’ with yuh.”</p> +<p>“But that isn’t all dad wanted,” continued the +girl, shaking her head. “Besides, you know both +Mrs. Polk and Mrs. Frieze are widows, and will +be looking for husbands. We’d maybe lose some +of the best boys we’ve got, if they came here,” said +Helen, her eyes twinkling.</p> +<p>“Great jumping Jehosaphat! I never thought +of that,” declared the foreman, suddenly scared. +“I never <i>did</i> like that Polk woman’s eye. I wouldn’t, +mebbe, be safe myse’f; would I?”</p> +<p>“I’m afraid not,” Helen gravely agreed. “So, +you see, to please dad, I’ll have to go to New +York. I don’t mean to stay for all time, Hen. +But I want to give it a try-out.”</p> +<p>She sounded Dud Stone a good bit about the +big city. Dud had to stay several days at Sunset +Ranch because he couldn’t ride very well +with his injured foot. And finally, when he did +go back to Badger’s, they took him in a buckboard.</p> +<p>To tell the truth, Dud was not altogether glad +to go. He was a boyish chap despite the fact that +he was nearly through law school, and a sixteen-year-old +girl like Helen Morrell—especially one of +her character—appealed to him strongly.</p> +<p>He admired the capable way in which she managed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +things about the ranch-house. Sing obeyed +her as though she were a man. There was a “rag-head” +who had somehow worked his way across +the mountains from the coast, and that Hindoo +about worshipped “Missee Sahib.” The two or +three Greasers working about the ranch showed +their teeth in broad smiles, and bowed most politely +when she appeared. And as for the punchers +and wranglers, they were every one as loyal +to Snuggy as they had been to her father.</p> +<p>The Easterner realized that among all the girls +he knew back home, either of her age or older, +there was none so capable as Helen Morrell. And +there were few any prettier.</p> +<p>“You’re going right to relatives when you reach +New York; are you, Miss Morrell?” asked Dud, +just before he climbed into the buckboard to return +to his friend’s ranch.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes. I shall go to Aunt Eunice,” said the +girl, decidedly.</p> +<p>“No need of my warning you against bunco men +and card sharpers,” chuckled Dud, “for your +folks will look out for you. But remember: +You’ll be just as much a tenderfoot there as I +am here.”</p> +<p>“I shall take care,” she returned, laughing.</p> +<p>“And—and I hope I may see you in New +York,” said Dud, hesitatingly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span></p> +<p>“Why, I hope we shall run across each other,” +replied Helen, calmly. She was not sure that it +would be the right thing to invite this young man +to call upon her at the Starkweathers’.</p> +<p>“I’d better ask Aunt Eunice about that first,” +she decided, to herself.</p> +<p>So she shook hands heartily with Dud Stone +and let him ride away, never appearing to notice +his rather wistful look. She was to see the time, +however, when she would be very glad of a friend +like Dud Stone in the great city.</p> +<p>Helen made her preparations for her trip to +New York without any advice from another +woman. To tell the truth she had little but riding +habits which were fit to wear, save the house frocks +which she wore around the ranch.</p> +<p>When she had gone to school in Denver, her +father had sent a sum of money to the principal +and that lady had seen that Helen was dressed +tastefully and well. But all these garments she +had outgrown.</p> +<p>To tell the truth, Helen had spent little of her +time in studying the pictures in fashion magazines. +In fact, there were no such books about +Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>The girl realized that the rough and ready +frocks she possessed were not in style. There was +but one store in Elberon, the nearest town, where +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span> +ready-to-wear garments were sold. She went there +and purchased the best they had; but they left +much to be desired.</p> +<p>She got a brown dress to travel in, and a shirtwaist +or two; but beyond that she dared not go. +Helen was wise enough to realize that, after she +arrived at her Uncle Starkweather’s, it would be +time enough to purchase proper raiment.</p> +<p>She “dressed up” in the new frock for the boys +to admire, the evening before she left. Every man +who could be spared from the range—even as far +as Creeping Ford—came in to the “party.” They +all admired Helen and were sorry to see her go +away. Yet they gave her their best wishes.</p> +<p>Big Hen Billings rode part of the way to Elberon +with her in the morning. She was going +to send the strawberry roan back hitched behind +the supply wagon. Her riding dress she would +change in the station agent’s parlor for the new +dress which was in the tray of her small trunk.</p> +<p>“Keep yer eyes peeled, Snuggy,” advised the +old foreman, with gravity, “when ye come up +against that New York town. ’Tain’t like Elberon—no, +sir! ’Tain’t even like Helena.</p> +<p>“Them folks in New York is rubbing up against +each other so close, that it makes ’em moughty +sharp—yessir! Jumping Jehosaphat! I knowed +a feller that went there onct and he lost ten dollars +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +and his watch before he’d been off the train an +hour. They can do ye that quick!”</p> +<p>“I believe that fellow must have been <i>you</i>, +Hen,” declared Helen, laughing.</p> +<p>The foreman looked shamefaced. “Wal, it +were,” he admitted. “But they never got nothin’ +more out o’ me. It was the hottest kind o’ summer +weather—an’ lemme tell yuh, it can be some +hot in that man’s town.</p> +<p>“Wal, I had a sheepskin coat with me. I put +it on, and I buttoned it from my throat-latch down +to my boot-tops. They’d had to pry a dollar +out o’ my pocket with a crowbar, and I wouldn’t +have had a drink with the mayor of the city if +he’d invited me. No, sirree, sir!”</p> +<p>Helen laughed again. “Don’t you fear for me, +Hen. I shall be in the best of hands, and shall +have plenty of friends around me. I’ll never feel +lonely in New York, I am sure.”</p> +<p>“I hope not. But, Snuggy, you know what to +do if anything goes wrong. Just telegraph me. +If you want me to come on, say the word——”</p> +<p>“Why, Hen! How ridiculous you talk,” she +cried. “I’ll be with relatives.”</p> +<p>“Ya-as. I know,” said the giant, shaking his +head. “But relatives ain’t like them that’s +knowed and loved yuh all yuh life. Don’t forgit +us out yere, Snuggy—and if ye want anything——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span> +His heart was evidently too full for further +utterance. He jerked his pony’s head around, +waved his hand to the girl who likewise was all but +in tears, and dashed back over the trail toward +Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>Helen pulled the Rose pony’s head around and +jogged on, headed east.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_AT_BOTH_ENDS_OF_THE_ROUTE' id='V_AT_BOTH_ENDS_OF_THE_ROUTE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<h3>AT BOTH ENDS OF THE ROUTE</h3> +</div> + +<p>As Helen walked up and down the platform at +Elberon, waiting for the east-bound Transcontinental, +she looked to be a very plain country girl +with nothing in her dress to denote that she was +one of the wealthiest young women in the State of +Montana.</p> +<p>Sunset Ranch was one of the few remaining +great cattle ranches of the West. Her father +could justly have been called “a cattle king,” only +Prince Morrell was not the sort of man who likes +to see his name in print.</p> +<p>Indeed, there was a good reason why Helen’s +father had not wished to advertise himself. That +old misfortune, which had borne so heavily upon +his mind and heart when he came to die, had made +him shrink from publicity.</p> +<p>However, business at Sunset Ranch had prospered +both before and since Mr. Morrell’s death. +The money had rolled in and the bank accounts +which had been put under the administration of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +Big Hen Billings and the lawyer at Elberon, increased +steadily.</p> +<p>Big Hen was a generous-handed administrator +and guardian. Of course, the foreman of the +ranch was, perhaps, not the best person to be +guardian of a sixteen-year-old girl. He did not +treat her, in regard to money matters, as the ordinary +guardian would have treated a ward.</p> +<p>Big Hen didn’t know how to limit a girl’s expenditures; +but he knew how to treat a man right. +And he treated Helen Morrell just as though she +were a sane and responsible man.</p> +<p>“There’s a thousand dollars in cash for you, +Snuggy,” he had said. “I got it in soft money, for +it’s a fac’ that they use that stuff a good deal in the +East. Besides, the hard money would have made +a good deal of a load for you to tote in them leetle +war-bags of yourn.”</p> +<p>“But shall I ever need a thousand dollars?” +asked Helen, doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Don’t know. Can’t tell. Sometimes ye need +money when ye least expect it. Ye needn’t tell +anybody how much you’ve got. Only, it’s <i>there</i>—and +a full pocket is a mighty nice backin’ for anybody +to have.</p> +<p>“And if ye find any time ye want more, jest +telegraph. We’ll send ye what they call a draft +for all ye want. Cut a dash. Show ’em that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +the girl from Sunset Ranch is the real thing, +Snuggy.”</p> +<p>But she had only laughed at this. It never +entered Helen Morrell’s mind that she should ever +wish to “cut a dash” before her relatives in New +York.</p> +<p>She had filed a telegram to Mr. Willets Starkweather, +on Madison Avenue, before the train arrived, +saying that she was coming. She hoped +that her relatives would reply and she would get +the reply en route.</p> +<p>When her father died, she had written to +the Starkweathers. She had received a brief, but +kindly worded note from Uncle Starkweather. +And it had scarcely been time yet, so Helen +thought, for Aunt Eunice or the girls to write.</p> +<p>But could Helen have arrived at the Madison +Avenue mansion of Willets Starkweather at the +same hour her message arrived and heard the +family’s comments on it, it is very doubtful if she +would have swung herself aboard the parlor car +of the Transcontinental, without the porter’s help, +and sought her seat.</p> +<p>The Starkweathers lived in very good style, indeed. +The mansion was one of several remaining +in that section, all occupied by the very oldest +and most elevated socially of New York’s solid +families. They were not people whose names +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +appeared in the gossip columns of the papers to +any extent; but to live in their neighborhood, and +to meet them socially, was sufficient to insure one’s +welcome anywhere.</p> +<p>The Starkweather mansion had descended to +Willets Starkweather with the money—all from +his great-uncle—which had finally put the family +upon its feet. When Prince Morrell had left New +York under a cloud, his brother-in-law was a +struggling merchant himself.</p> +<p>Now, in sixteen years, he had practically retired. +At least, he was no longer “in trade.” He +merely went to an office, or to his broker’s, each +day, and watched his investments and his real +estate holdings.</p> +<p>A pompous, well-fed man was Willets Starkweather—and +always imposingly dressed. He +was very bald, wore a closely cropped gray beard, +eyeglasses, and “Ahem!” was an introduction +to almost everything he said. That clearing +of the bronchial tubes was an announcement to +the listening world that he, Willets Starkweather, +of Madison Avenue, was about to make a remark. +And no matter how trivial that remark might be, +coming from the lips of the great man, it should +be pondered upon and regarded with awe.</p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather was a widower. Helen’s +Aunt Eunice had been dead three years. It had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +never been considered necessary by either Mr. +Starkweather, or his daughters, to write “Aunt +Mary’s folks in Montana” of Mrs. Starkweather’s +death.</p> +<p>Correspondence between the families had ceased +at the time of Mrs. Morrell’s death. The Starkweather +girls understood that Aunt Mary’s husband +had “done something” before he left New +York for the wild and woolly West. The family +did not—Ahem!—speak of him.</p> +<p>The three girls were respectively eighteen, sixteen, +and fourteen. Even Flossie considered herself +entirely grown up. She attended a private +school not far from Central Park, and went each +day dressed as elaborately as a matron of thirty.</p> +<p>For Hortense, who was just Helen Morrell’s +age, “school had become a bore.” She had a +smattering of French, knew how to drum nicely +on the piano—she was still taking lessons in <i>that</i> +polite accomplishment—had only a vague idea of +the ordinary rules of English grammar, and couldn’t +write a decent letter, or spell words of more +than two syllables, to save her life.</p> +<p>Belle golfed. She did little else just now, for +she was a creature of fads. Occasionally she got +a new one, and with kindred spirits played that +particular fad to death.</p> +<p>She might have found a much worse hobby to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span> +ride. Getting up early and starting for the Long +Island links, or for Westchester, before her sisters +had had their breakfast, was not doing Belle +a bit of harm. Only, she was getting in with a +somewhat “sporty” class of girls and women +older than herself, and the bloom of youth had +been quite rubbed off.</p> +<p>Indeed, these three girls were about as fresh as +is a dried prune. They had jumped from childhood +into full-blown womanhood (or thought they +had), thereby missing the very best and sweetest +part of their girls’ life.</p> +<p>They had come in from their various activities +of the day when Helen’s telegram arrived. Naturally +they ran with it to their father’s “den”—a +gorgeously upholstered yet small library on the +ground floor, at the back.</p> +<p>“What is it now, girls?” demanded Mr. Starkweather, +looking up in some dismay at this general +onslaught. “I don’t want you to suggest any further +expenditures this month. I have paid all the +bills I possibly can pay. We must retrench—we +must retrench.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Pa!” said Flossie, saucily, “you’re always +saying that. I believe you say ‘We must retrench!’ +in your sleep.”</p> +<p>“And small wonder if I do,” he grumbled. +“I have lost some money; the stock market is very +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +dull. And nobody is buying real estate. I—I am +quite at my wits’ ends, I assure you, girls.”</p> +<p>“Dear me! and another mouth to feed!” +laughed Hortense, tossing her head. “<i>That</i> will +be excuse enough for telling her to go to a hotel +when she arrives.”</p> +<p>“Probably the poor thing won’t have the price +of a room,” observed Belle, looking again at the +telegram.</p> +<p>“What is that in your hand, child?” demanded +Mr. Starkweather, suddenly seeing the yellow slip +of paper.</p> +<p>“A dispatch, Pa,” said Flossie, snatching it out +of Belle’s hand.</p> +<p>“A telegram?”</p> +<p>“And you’d never guess from whom,” cried the +youngest girl.</p> +<p>“I—I——Let me see it,” said her father, with +some abruptness. “No bad news, I hope?”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t call it <i>good</i> news,” said the oldest +girl, with a sniff.</p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather read it aloud:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style=' margin-left:4em;'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Coming on Transcontinental. Arrive Grand</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Central Terminal 9 P.M. the third.</p> +<br /> +<p style='text-align: right;'>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Helen Morrell</span>.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Now! What do you think of that, Pa?” demanded +Flossie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span></p> +<p>“‘Helen Morrell,’” repeated Mr. Starkweather, +and a person more observant than any +of his daughters might have seen that his lips had +grown suddenly gray. He dropped into his chair +rather heavily. “Your cousin, girls.”</p> +<p>“Fol-de-rol!” exclaimed Belle. “I don’t see +why she should claim relationship.”</p> +<p>“Send her to a hotel, Pa,” said Flossie.</p> +<p>“I’m sure <i>I</i> do not wish to be bothered by a +common ranch girl. Why! she was born and +brought up out in the wilds; wasn’t she?” demanded +Hortense.</p> +<p>“Her father and mother went West before this +girl was born—yes,” murmured Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>He was strangely agitated by the message. But +the girls did not notice this. They were not likely +to notice anything but their own disturbance over +the coming of “that ranch girl.”</p> +<p>“Why, Pa, we can’t have her here!” cried +Belle.</p> +<p>“Of course we can’t, Pa,” agreed Hortense.</p> +<p>“I’m sure <i>I</i> don’t want the common little thing +around,” added Flossie, who, as has been said, +was quite two years Helen’s junior.</p> +<p>“We couldn’t introduce her to our friends,” +declared Belle.</p> +<p>“What a <i>fright</i> she’ll be!” wailed Hortense. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“She’ll wear a sombrero and a split riding skirt, +I suppose,” scoffed Flossie, who madly desired a +slit skirt, herself.</p> +<p>“Of course she’ll be a perfect dowdy,” Belle +observed.</p> +<p>“And be loud and wear heavy boots, and stamp +through the house,” sighed Hortense. “We just +<i>can’t</i> have her, Pa.”</p> +<p>“Why, I wouldn’t let any of the girls of <i>our</i> +set see her for the world,” cried Flossie.</p> +<p>Their father finally spoke. He had recovered +from his secret emotion, but he was still mopping +the perspiration from his bald brow.</p> +<p>“I don’t really see how I can prevent her coming,” +he said, rather weakly.</p> +<p>“What nonsense, Pa!”</p> +<p>“Of course you can!”</p> +<p>“Telegraph her not to come.”</p> +<p>“But she is already aboard the train,” objected +Mr. Starkweather, gloomily.</p> +<p>“Then, I tell you,” snapped Flossie, who was +the most unkind of the girls. “Don’t telegraph +her at all. Don’t answer her message. Don’t send +to the station to meet her. Maybe she won’t be +too dense to take <i>that</i> hint.”</p> +<p>“Pooh! these wild and woolly Western girls!” +grumbled Hortense. “I don’t believe she’ll know +enough to stay away.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span></p> +<p>“We can try it,” persisted Flossie.</p> +<p>“She ought to realize that we’re not dying to +see her when we don’t come to the train,” said +Belle.</p> +<p>“I—don’t—know,” mused their father.</p> +<p>“Now, Pa!” cried Flossie. “You know very +well you don’t want that girl here.”</p> +<p>“No,” he admitted. “But—Ahem!—we have +certain duties——”</p> +<p>“Bother duties!” said Hortense.</p> +<p>“Ahem! She is your mother’s sister’s child,” +spoke Mr. Starkweather, heavily. “She is a young +and unprotected female——”</p> +<p>“Seems to me,” said Belle, crossly, “the relationship +is far enough removed for us to ignore it. +Mother’s sister, Aunt Mary, is dead.”</p> +<p>“True—true. Ahem!” said her father.</p> +<p>“And isn’t it true that this man, Morrell, whom +she married, left New York under a cloud?”</p> +<p>“O—oh!” cried Hortense. “So he did.”</p> +<p>“What did he do?” Flossie asked, bluntly.</p> +<p>“Embezzled; didn’t he, Pa?” asked Belle.</p> +<p>“That’s enough!” cried Flossie, tossing her +head. “We certainly don’t want a convict’s +daughter in the house.”</p> +<p>“Hush, Flossie!” said her father, with sudden +sternness. “Prince Morrell was never a convict.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span></p> +<p>“No,” sneered Hortense. “He ran away. He +didn’t get that far.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! Daughters, we have no right to talk +in this way—even in fun——”</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t care,” cried Belle, impatiently. +“Whether she’s a criminal’s child or not; I don’t +want her. None of us wants her. Why, then, +should we have her?”</p> +<p>“But where will she go?” demanded Mr. +Starkweather, almost desperately.</p> +<p>“What do we care?” cried Flossie, callously. +“She can be sent back; can’t she?”</p> +<p>“I tell you what it is,” said Belle, getting up +and speaking with determination. “We don’t +want Helen Morrell here. We will not meet her +at the train. We will not send any reply to this +message from her. And if she has the effrontery +to come here to the house after our ignoring her in +this way, we’ll send her back where she came from +just as soon as it can be done. What do you say, +girls?”</p> +<p>“Fine!” from Hortense and Flossie.</p> +<p>But their father said “Ahem!” and still looked +troubled.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_ACROSS_THE_CONTINENT' id='VI_ACROSS_THE_CONTINENT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>ACROSS THE CONTINENT</h3> +</div> + +<p>It was not as though Helen Morrell had never +been in a train before. Eight times she had gone +back and forth to Denver, and she had always +ridden in the best style. So sleepers, chair cars, +private compartments, and observation coaches +were no novelty to her.</p> +<p>She had discussed the matter with her friend, +the Elberon station agent, and had bought her +ticket through to New York, with a berth section +to herself. It cost a good bit of money, but Helen +knew no better way to spend some of that thousand +dollars that Big Hen had given to her.</p> +<p>Her small trunk was put in the baggage car, +and all she carried was a hand-satchel with toilet +articles and kimono; and in it likewise was her father’s +big wallet stuffed with the yellow-backed +notes—all crisp and new—that Big Hen Billings +had brought to her from the bank.</p> +<p>When she was comfortably seated in her particular +section, and the porter had seen that her +footstool was right, and had hovered about her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span> +with offers of other assistance until she had put +a silver dollar into his itching palm, Helen first +stared about her frankly at the other occupants of +the car.</p> +<p>Nobody paid much attention to the countrified +girl who had come aboard at the way-station. The +Transcontinental’s cars are always well filled. +There were family parties, and single tourists, with +part of a grand opera troupe, and traveling men +of the better class.</p> +<p>Helen would have been glad to join one of the +family groups. In one there were two girls and +a boy beside the parents and a lady who must have +been the governess. One of the girls, and the boy, +were quite as old as Helen. They were all so well +behaved, and polite to each other, yet jolly and +companionable, that Helen knew she could have +liked them immensely.</p> +<p>But there was nobody to introduce the lonely +girl to them, nor to any others of her fellow +travelers. The conductor, even, did not take much +interest in the girl in brown.</p> +<p>She began to realize that what was the height +of fashion in Elberon was several seasons behind +the style in larger communities. There was not +a pretty or attractive thing about Helen’s dress; +and even a very pretty girl will seem a frump in +an out-of-style and unbecoming frock. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span></p> +<p>It might have been better for the girl from Sunset +Ranch if she had worn on the train the very +riding habit she had in her trunk. At least, it +would have become her and she would have felt +natural in it.</p> +<p>She knew now—when she had seen the hats of +her fellow passengers—that her own was an +atrocity. And, then, Helen had “put her hair up,” +which was something she had not been used to +doing. Without practice, or some example to +work by, how could this unsophisticated young +girl have produced a specimen of modern hair-dressing +fit to be seen?</p> +<p>Even Dudley Stone could not have thought +Helen Morrell pretty as she looked now. And +when she gazed in the glass herself, the girl from +Sunset Ranch was more than a little disgusted.</p> +<p>“I know I’m a fright. I’ve got ‘such a muchness’ +of hair and it’s so sunburned, and all! What +those girls I’m going to see will say to me, I don’t +know. But if they’re good-natured they’ll soon +show me how to handle this mop—and of course +I can buy any quantity of pretty frocks when I +get to New York.”</p> +<p>So she only looked at the other people on the +train and made no acquaintances at all that first +day. She slept soundly at night while the Transcontinental +raced on over the undulating plains on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span> +which the stars shone so peacefully. Each roll +of the drumming wheels was carrying her nearer +and nearer to that new world of which she knew +so little, but from which she hoped so much.</p> +<p>She dreamed that she had reached her goal—Uncle +Starkweather’s house. Aunt Eunice met +her. She had never even seen a photograph of +her aunt; but the lady who gathered her so closely +into her arms and kissed her so tenderly, looked +just as Helen’s own mother had looked.</p> +<p>She awoke crying, and hugging the tiny pillow +which the Pullman Company furnishes its patrons +as a sample—the <i>real</i> pillow never materializes.</p> +<p>But to the healthy girl from the wide reaches +of the Montana range, the berth was quite comfortable +enough. She had slept on the open +ground many a night, rolled only in a blanket and +without any pillow at all. So she arose fresher +than most of her fellow-passengers.</p> +<p>One man—whom she had noticed the evening +before—was adjusting a wig behind the curtain of +his section. He looked when he was completely +dressed rather a well-preserved person; and Helen +was impressed with the thought that he must still +feel young to wish to appear so juvenile.</p> +<p>Even with his wig adjusted—a very curly brown +affair—the man looked, however, to be upward of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +sixty. There were many fine wrinkles about his +eyes and deep lines graven in his cheeks.</p> +<p>His section was just behind that of the girl from +Sunset Ranch, on the other side of the car. After +returning from the breakfast table this first morning +Helen thought she would better take a little +more money out of the wallet to put in her purse +for emergencies on the train. So she opened the +locked bag and dragged out the well-stuffed wallet +from underneath her other possessions.</p> +<p>The roll of yellow-backed notes <i>was</i> a large one. +Helen, lacking more interesting occupation, unfolded +the crisp banknotes and counted them to +make sure of her balance. As she sat in her seat +she thought nobody could observe her.</p> +<p>Then she withdrew what she thought she might +need, and put the remainder of the money back +into the old wallet, snapped the strong elastic about +it, and slid it down to the bottom of the bag again.</p> +<p>The key of the bag she carried on the chain +with her locket, which locket contained the miniatures +of her mother and father. Key and locket +she hid in the bosom of her dress.</p> +<p>She looked up suddenly. There was the fatherly-looking +old person almost bending over her chair +back. For an instant the girl was very much +startled. The old man’s eyes were wonderfully +keen and twinkling, and there was an expression +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +in them which Helen at first did not understand.</p> +<p>“If you have finished with that magazine, my +dear, I’ll exchange it for one of mine,” said the +old gentleman coolly. “What! did I frighten +you?”</p> +<p>“Not exactly, sir,” returned Helen, watching +him curiously. “But I <i>was</i> startled.”</p> +<p>“Beg pardon. You do not look like a young +person who would be easily frightened,” he said, +laughing. “You are traveling alone?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Far?”</p> +<p>“To New York, sir,” said Helen.</p> +<p>“Ah! a long way for a girl to go by herself—even +a self-possessed one like you,” said the fatherly +old fellow. “I hope you have friends to +meet you there?”</p> +<p>“Relatives.”</p> +<p>“You have never been there, I take it?”</p> +<p>“I have never been farther east than Denver +before,” she replied.</p> +<p>“Indeed! And so you have not met the relatives +you are going to?” he suggested, shrewdly.</p> +<p>“You are right, sir.”</p> +<p>“But, of course, they will not fail to meet +you?”</p> +<p>“I telegraphed to them. I expect to get a +reply somewhere on the way.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span></p> +<p>“Then you are well provided for,” said the old +gentleman, kindly. “Yet, if you should need any +assistance—of any kind—do not fail to call upon +me. I am going through to New York, too.”</p> +<p>He went back to his seat after making the exchange +of magazines, and did not force his attentions +upon her further. He was, however, almost +the only person who spoke to her all the way +across the continent.</p> +<p>Frequently they ate together at the same table, +both being alone. He bought newspapers and +magazines and exchanged with her. He never became +personal and asked her questions again, nor +did Helen learn his name; but in little ways which +were not really objectionable, he showed that he +took an interest in her. There remained, however, +the belief in Helen’s mind that he had seen her +counting the money.</p> +<p>“I expect I’d like the old chap if he didn’t wear +a wig,” thought Helen. “I never could see why +people wished to hide the mistakes of Nature. +And he’s an old gentleman, too.”</p> +<p>Yet again and again she recalled that avaricious +gleam in his eyes and how eager he had seemed +when she had first caught sight of his face looking +over her shoulder that first morning on the +train. She couldn’t forget that. She kept the +locked bag near her hand all the time. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span></p> +<p>With lively company a journey across this great +continent of ours is a cheerful and inspiring experience. +And, of course, Youth can never remain +depressed for long. But in Helen Morrell’s case +the trip could not be counted as an enjoyable one.</p> +<p>She was always solitary amid the crowd of +travelers. Even when she went back to the observation +platform she was alone. She had nobody +with whom to discuss the beauties of the landscape, +or the wonders of Nature past which the +train flashed.</p> +<p>This was her own fault to a degree, of course. +The girl from Sunset Ranch was diffident. These +people aboard were all Easterners, or foreigners. +There were no open-hearted, friendly Western +folk such as she had been used to all her life.</p> +<p>She felt herself among a strange people. She +scarcely spoke the same language, or so it seemed. +She had felt less awkward and bashful when she +had first gone to the school at Denver as a little +girl.</p> +<p>And, again, she was troubled because she had +received no reply from her message to Uncle Starkweather. +Of course, he might not have been at +home to receive it; but surely some of the family +must have received it.</p> +<p>Every time the brakeman, or porter, or conductor, +came through with a message for some passenger, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span> +she hoped he would call her name. But +the Transcontinental brought her across the Western +plains, over the two great rivers, through the +Mid-West prairies, skirted two of the Great +Lakes, rushed across the wooded and mountainous +Empire State, and finally dashed down the length +of the embattled Hudson toward the Great City +of the New World—the goal of Helen Morrell’s +late desires, with no word from the relatives whom +she so hoped would welcome her to their hearts +and home.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_THE_GREAT_CITY' id='VII_THE_GREAT_CITY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>THE GREAT CITY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Helen Morrell never forgot her initial impressions +of the great city.</p> +<p>These impressions were at first rather startling—then +intensely interesting. And they all culminated +in a single opinion which time only could +prove either true or erroneous.</p> +<p>That belief or opinion Helen expressed in an +almost audible exclamation:</p> +<p>“Why! there are so many people here one +could <i>never</i> feel lonely!”</p> +<p>This impression came to her after the train had +rolled past miles of streets—all perfectly straight, +bearing off on either hand to the two rivers that +wash Manhattan’s shores; all illuminated exactly +alike; all bordered by cliffs of dwellings seemingly +cut on the same pattern and from the same material.</p> +<p>With clasped hands and parted lips the girl from +Sunset Ranch watched eagerly the glowing streets, +parted by the rushing train. As it slowed down at +125th Street she could see far along that broad +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span> +thoroughfare—an uptown Broadway. There +were thousands and thousands of people in sight—with +the glare of shoplights—the clanging electric +cars—the taxicabs and autos shooting across +the main stem of Harlem into the avenues running +north and south.</p> +<p>It was as marvelous to the Montana girl as the +views of a foreign land upon the screen of a moving +picture theatre. She sank back in her seat +with a sigh as the train moved on.</p> +<p>“What a wonderful, wonderful place!” she +thought. “It looks like fairyland. It is an enchanted +place——”</p> +<p>The train, now under electric power, shot suddenly +into the ground. The tunnel was odorous +and ill-lighted.</p> +<p>“Well,” the girl thought, “I suppose there <i>is</i> +another side to the big city, too!”</p> +<p>The passengers began to put on their wraps and +gather together their hand-luggage. There was +much talking and confusion. Some of the tourists +had been met at 125th Street by friends who came +that far to greet them.</p> +<p>But there was nobody to greet Helen. There +was nobody waiting on the platform, to come and +clasp her hand and bid her welcome, when the train +stopped.</p> +<p>She got down, with her bag, and looked about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span> +her. She saw that the old gentleman with the wig +kept step with her. But he did not seem to be +noticing her, and presently he disappeared.</p> +<p>The girl from Sunset Ranch walked slowly up +into the main building of the Grand Central +Terminal with the crowd. There was chattering +all about her—young voices, old voices, laughter, +squeals of delight and surprise—all the hubbub +of a homing crowd meeting a crowd of +friends.</p> +<p>And through it all Helen walked, a stranger in a +strange land.</p> +<p>She lingered, hoping that Uncle Starkweather’s +people might be late. But nobody spoke to her. +She did not know that there were matrons and +police officers in the building to whom she could +apply for advice or assistance.</p> +<p>Naturally independent, this girl of the ranges +was not likely to ask a stranger for help. She +could find her own way.</p> +<p>She smiled—yet it was a rather wry smile—when +she thought of how Dud Stone had told her +she would be as much of a tenderfoot in New +York as he had been on the plains.</p> +<p>“It’s a fact,” she thought. “But, if they didn’t +get my message, I reckon I can find the house, just +the same.”</p> +<p>Having been so much in Denver she knew a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +good deal about city ways. She did not linger +about the station long.</p> +<p>Outside there was a row of taxicabs and cabmen. +There was an officer, too; but he was engaged +at the moment in helping a fussy old lady get +seven parcels, a hat box, and a dog basket into a +cab.</p> +<p>So Helen walked down the row of waiting taxicabs. +At the end cab the chauffeur on the seat +turned around and beckoned.</p> +<p>“Cab, Miss? Take you anywhere you say.”</p> +<p>“You know where this number on Madison +Street is, of course?” she said, showing a card +with the address on it.</p> +<p>“Sure, Miss. Jump right in.”</p> +<p>“How much will it be?”</p> +<p>“Trunk, Miss?”</p> +<p>“Yes. Here is the check.”</p> +<p>The chauffeur got out of his seat quickly and +took the check.</p> +<p>“It’s so much a mile. The little clock tells you +the fare,” he said, pleasantly.</p> +<p>“All right,” replied Helen. “You get the +trunk,” and she stepped into the vehicle.</p> +<p>In a few moments he was back with the trunk +and secured it on the roof of his cab. Then he +reached in and tucked a cloth around his passenger, +although the evening was not cold, and got in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +under the wheel. In another moment the taxicab +rolled out from under the roofed concourse.</p> +<p>Helen had never ridden in any vehicle that went +so smoothly and so fast. It shot right downtown, +mile after mile; but Helen was so interested in +the sights she saw from the window of the +cab that she did not worry about the time that +elapsed.</p> +<p>By and by they went under an elevated railroad +structure; the street grew more narrow and—to +tell the truth—Helen thought the place appeared +rather dirty and unkempt.</p> +<p>Then the cab was turned suddenly across the +way, under another elevated structure, and into a +narrow, noisy, ill-kept street.</p> +<p>“Can it be that Uncle Starkweather lives in +this part of the town?” thought Helen, in amazement.</p> +<p>She had always understood that the Starkweather +mansion was in one of the oldest and +most respectable parts of New York. But although +<i>this</i> might be one of the older parts of +the city, to Helen’s eyes it did <i>not</i> look respectable.</p> +<p>The street was full of children and grown people +in odd costumes. And there was a babel of +voices that certainly were not English.</p> +<p>They shot across another narrow street—then +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +another. And then the cab stopped beside the +curb near a corner gaslight.</p> +<p>“Surely this is not Madison?” demanded +Helen, of the driver, as her door was opened.</p> +<p>“There’s the name, Miss,” said the man, pointing +to the street light.</p> +<p>Helen looked. She really <i>did</i> see “MADISON” +in blue letters on the sign.</p> +<p>“And is this the number?” she asked again, +looking at the three-story, shabby house before +which the cab had stopped.</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss. Don’t you see it on the fanlight?”</p> +<p>The dull light in the hall of the house was sufficient +to reveal to her the number painted on the +glass above the door. It was an old, old house, +with grimy panes in the windows, and more dull +lights behind the shades drawn down over them. +But there really could be no mistake, Helen +thought. The number over the door and the name +on the lamp-post reassured her.</p> +<p>She stepped out of the cab, her bag in her +hand.</p> +<p>“See if your folks are here, Miss,” said the +driver, “before I take off the trunk.”</p> +<p>Helen crossed the walk, clinging to her precious +bag. She was not a little disturbed by this strange +situation. These streets about here were the commonest +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span> +of the common! And she was carrying a +large sum of money, quite unprotected.</p> +<p>When she mounted the steps and touched the +door, it opened. A bustle of sound came from +the house; yet it was not the kind of bustle that +she had expected to hear in her uncle’s home.</p> +<p>There were the crying of children, the shrieking +of a woman’s angry voice—another singing—language +in guttural tones which she could not +understand—heavy boots tramping upon the bare +boards overhead.</p> +<p>This lower hall was unfurnished. Indeed, it was +a most unlovely place as far as Helen could see by +the light of a single flaring gas jet.</p> +<p>“What kind of a place have I got into?” murmured +the Western girl, staring about in disgust +and horror, and clinging tightly to the locked bag.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_THE_WELCOME' id='VIII_THE_WELCOME'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>THE WELCOME</h3> +</div> + +<p>Helen would have faced almost any peril of +the range—wolves, a bear even, a stampede, flood, +or fire—with more confidence than she felt at this +moment.</p> +<p>She had some idea of how city people lived, +having been to school in Denver. It seemed impossible +that Uncle Starkweather and his family +could reside in such a place as this. And yet the +street and number were correct. Surely, the taxicab +driver must know his way about the city!</p> +<p>From behind the door on her right came the +rattle of dishes and voices. Putting her courage +to the test, Helen rapped on the door. But she +had to repeat the summons before she was heard.</p> +<p>Then she heard a shuffling step approach the +door, it was unlocked, and a gray old woman, with +a huge horsehair wig upon her head, peered out at +her.</p> +<p>“Vot you vant?” this apparition asked, her +black eyes growing round in wonder at the appearance +of the girl and her bag. “Ve puys +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +noddings; ve sells noddings. Vot you vant—eh?”</p> +<p>“I am looking for my Uncle Starkweather,” +said Helen, doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Vor your ungle?” repeated the old woman.</p> +<p>“Mr. Starkweather. Does he live in this +house?”</p> +<p>“‘S’arkwesser’? I neffer heard,” said the old +woman, shaking her huge head. “Abramovitch +lifs here, and Abelosky, and Seldt, and—and +Goronsky. You sure you god de name ride, +Miss?”</p> +<p>“Quite sure,” replied the puzzled Helen.</p> +<p>“Meppe ubstairs,” said the woman, eyeing +Helen curiously. “Vot you god in de pag, lady?”</p> +<p>To tell the truth this query rather frightened +the girl. She did not reply to the question, but +started half-blindly for the stairs, clinging to the +bag with both hands.</p> +<p>Suddenly a door banged above and a quick and +light step began to descend the upper flight. Helen +halted and looked expectantly upward. The approaching +step was that of a young person.</p> +<p>In a moment a girl appeared, descending the +stairs like a young whirlwind. She was a vigorous, +red-cheeked girl, with dark complexion, a prominent +nose, flashing black eyes, and plump, sturdy +arms bared to her dimpled elbows. She saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span> +Helen there in the hall and stopped, questioningly. +The old woman said something to the newcomer +in what Helen supposed must be Yiddish, +and banged shut her own door.</p> +<p>“Whaddeyer want, Miss?” asked the dark +girl, coming nearer to Helen and smiling, showing +two rows of perfect teeth. “Got lost?”</p> +<p>“I don’t know but what I have,” admitted the +girl from the West.</p> +<p>“Chee! You’re a greenie, too; ain’t you?”</p> +<p>“I reckon so,” replied Helen, smiling in return. +“At least, I’ve just arrived in town.”</p> +<p>The girl had now opened the door and looked +out. “Look at this, now!” she exclaimed. +“Did you come in that taxi?”</p> +<p>“Yes,” admitted Helen.</p> +<p>“Chee! you’re some swell; aren’t you?” said +the other. “We don’t have them things stopping +at the house every day.”</p> +<p>“I am looking for my uncle, Mr. Willets Starkweather.”</p> +<p>“That’s no Jewish name. I don’t believe he +lives in this house,” said the black-eyed girl, curiously.</p> +<p>“But, this is the number—I saw it,” said Helen, +faintly. “And it’s Madison Avenue; isn’t it? I +saw the name on the corner lamp-post.”</p> +<p>“<i>Madison Avenyer?</i>” gasped the other girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span></p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Yer kiddin’; ain’t yer?” demanded the +stranger.</p> +<p>“Why—— What do you mean?”</p> +<p>“This ain’t Madison Avenyer,” said the black-eyed +girl, with a loud laugh. “Ain’t you the +greenie? Why, this is Madison <i>Street!</i>”</p> +<p>“Oh, then, there’s a difference?” cried Helen, +much relieved. “I didn’t get to Uncle Starkweather’s, +then?”</p> +<p>“Not if he lives on Madison Avenyer,” said her +new friend. “What’s his number? I got a cousin +that married a man in Harlem. <i>She</i> lives +on Madison Avenyer; but it’s a long ways up +town.”</p> +<p>“Why, Uncle Starkweather has his home at the +same number on Madison Avenue that is on that +fanlight,” and Helen pointed over the door.</p> +<p>“Then he’s some swell; eh?”</p> +<p>“I—I guess so,” admitted Helen, doubtfully.</p> +<p>“D’jer jest come to town?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“And told the taxi driver to come down here?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Well, he’ll take you back. I’ll take the number +of the cab and scare him pretty near into a +fit,” said the black-eyed girl, laughing. “Then +he’s sure to take you right to your uncle’s house.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>“Oh, I’m a thousand times obliged!” cried +Helen. “I <i>am</i> a tenderfoot; am I not?” and she +laughed.</p> +<p>The girl looked at her curiously. “I don’t +know much about tender feet. Mine never bother +me,” she said. “But I could see right away that +you didn’t belong in this part of town.”</p> +<p>“Well, you’ve been real kind to me,” Helen +said. “I hope I’ll see you again.”</p> +<p>“Not likely,” said the other, shaking her head.</p> +<p>“Why not?”</p> +<p>“And you livin’ on Madison Avenyer, and me +on Madison Street?”</p> +<p>“I can come down to see you,” said Helen, +frankly. “My name is Helen Morrell. What’s +yours?”</p> +<p>“Sadie Goronsky. You see, I’m a Russian,” +and she smiled. “You wouldn’t know it by the +way I talk; would you? I learned English over +there. But some folks in Russia don’t care to mix +much with our people.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know anything about that,” said +Helen. “But I know when I like a person. And +I’ve got reason for liking you.”</p> +<p>“That goes—double,” returned the other, +warmly. “I bet you come from a place far away +from this city.”</p> +<p>“Montana,” said Helen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>“I ain’t up in United States geography. But +I know there’s a big country the other side of the +North River.”</p> +<p>Helen laughed. “I come from a good ways +beyond the river,” she said.</p> +<p>“Well, I’ll have to get back to the store. Old +Jacob will give me fits.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear! and I’m keeping you,” cried Helen.</p> +<p>“I should worry!” exploded the other, slangily. +“I’m only a ‘puller-in.’ I ain’t a saleslady. Come +on and I’ll throw a scare into that taxi-driver. +Watch me.”</p> +<p>This sort of girl was a revelation to Helen. +She was frankly independent herself; but Sadie +Goronsky showed an entirely different sort of independence.</p> +<p>“See here you, Mr. Man!” exclaimed the Jewish +girl, attracting the attention of the taxicab +driver, who had not left his seat. “Whadderyer +mean by bringing this young lady down here to +Madison Street when with half an eye you could +ha’ told that she belonged on Madison <i>Avenyer</i>?”</p> +<p>“Heh?” grunted the man.</p> +<p>“Now, don’t play no greenie trick with <i>me</i>,” +commanded Sadie. “I gotcher number, and I +know the company youse woik for. You take this +young lady right to the correct address on the +avenyer—and see that she don’t get robbed before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +you get her there. You get in, Miss Morrell. +Don’t you be afraid. This chap won’t dare take +you anywhere but to your uncle’s house now.”</p> +<p>“She said Madison Street,” declared the taxicab +driver, doggedly.</p> +<p>“Well, now <i>I</i> says Madison Avenyer!” exclaimed +Sadie. “Get in, Miss.”</p> +<p>“But where’ll I find you, Sadie?” asked the +Western girl, holding the rough hand of her new +friend.</p> +<p>“Right at that shop yonder,” said the black-eyed +girl, pointing to a store only two doors beyond +the house which Helen had entered. +“Ladies’ garments. You’ll see me pullin’ ’em in. +If you <i>don’t</i> see me, ask for Miss Goronsky. +Good-night, Miss! You’ll get to your uncle’s all +right now.”</p> +<p>The taxicab driver had started the machine +again. They darted off through a side street, and +soon came out upon the broader thoroughfare +down which they had come so swiftly. She saw by +a street sign that it was the Bowery.</p> +<p>The man slowed down and spoke to her through +the tube.</p> +<p>“I hope you don’t bear no ill-will, Miss,” he +said, humbly enough. “You said Madison——”</p> +<p>“All right. See if you can take me to the right +place now,” returned Helen, brusquely. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span></p> +<p>Her talk with Sadie Goronsky had given her +more confidence. She was awake to the wiles of +the city now. Dud Stone had been right. Even +Big Hen Billings’s warnings were well placed. A +stranger like herself had to be on the lookout all +the time.</p> +<p>After a time the taxicab turned up a wider +thoroughfare that had no elevated trains roaring +overhead. At Twenty-third Street it turned west +and then north again at Madison Square.</p> +<p>There was a little haze in the air—an October +haze. Through this the lamps twinkled blithely. +There were people on the dusky benches, and many +on the walks strolling to and fro, although it was +now growing quite late.</p> +<p>In the park she caught a glimpse of water in a +fountain, splashing high, then low, with a rainbow +in it. Altogether it was a beautiful sight.</p> +<p>The hum of night traffic—the murmur of voices—they +flashed past a theatre just sending forth +its audience—and all the subdued sights and sounds +of the city delighted her again.</p> +<p>Suddenly the taxicab stopped.</p> +<p>“This is the number, Miss,” said the driver.</p> +<p>Helen looked out first. Not much like the +same number on Madison Street!</p> +<p>This block was a slice of old-fashioned New +York. On either side was a row of handsome, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span> +plain old houses, a few with lanterns at their steps, +and some with windows on several floors brilliantly +lighted.</p> +<p>There were carriages and automobiles waiting +at these doors. Evening parties were evidently in +progress.</p> +<p>The house before which the taxicab had stopped +showed no light in front, however, except at the +door and in one or two of the basement windows.</p> +<p>“Is this the place you want?” asked the driver, +with some impatience.</p> +<p>“I’ll see,” said Helen, and hopped out of the +cab.</p> +<p>She ran boldly up the steps and rang the bell. +In a minute the inner door swung open; but the +outer grating remained locked. A man in livery +stood in the opening.</p> +<p>“What did you wish, ma’am?” he asked in a +perfectly placid voice.</p> +<p>“Does Mr. Willets Starkweather reside here?” +asked Helen.</p> +<p>“Mr. Starkweather is not at home, ma’am.”</p> +<p>“Oh! then he could not have received my telegram!” +gasped Helen.</p> +<p>The footman remained silent, but partly closed +the door.</p> +<p>“Any message, ma’am?” he asked, perfunctorily. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span></p> +<p>“But surely the family is at home?” cried +Helen.</p> +<p>“Not at this hour of the hevening, ma’am,” declared +the English servant, with plain disdain.</p> +<p>“But I must see them!” cried Helen, again. +“I am Mr. Starkweather’s niece. I have come all +the way from Montana, and have just got into the +city. You must let me in.”</p> +<p>“Hi ’ave no orders regarding you, ma’am,” +declared the footman, slowly. “Mr. Starkweather +is at ’is club. The young ladies are hat +an evening haffair.”</p> +<p>“But auntie—surely there must be <i>somebody</i> +here to welcome me?” said Helen, in more wonder +than anger as yet.</p> +<p>“You may come in, Miss,” said the footman at +last. “Hi will speak to the ’ousekeeper—though +I fear she is abed.”</p> +<p>“But I have the taxicab driver to pay, and my +trunk is here,” declared Helen, beginning suddenly +to feel very helpless.</p> +<p>The man had opened the grilled door. He +gazed down at the cab and shook his head.</p> +<p>“Wait hand see Mrs. Olstrom, first, Miss,” he +said.</p> +<p>She stepped in. He closed both doors and +chained the inner one. He pointed to a hard seat +in a corner of the hall and then stepped softly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +away upon the thick carpet to the rear of the +premises, leaving the girl from Sunset Ranch +alone.</p> +<p><i>This</i> was her welcome to the home of her only +relatives, and to the heart of the great city!</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_THE_GHOST_WALK' id='IX_THE_GHOST_WALK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>THE GHOST WALK</h3> +</div> + +<p>Helen had to wait only a short time; but during +that wait she was aware that she was being +watched by a pair of bright eyes at a crevice between +the portières at the end of the hall.</p> +<p>“They act as though I came to rob them,” +thought the girl from the ranch, sitting in the +gloomy hall with the satchel at her feet.</p> +<p>This was not the welcome she had expected +when she started East. Could it be possible that +her message to Uncle Starkweather had not been +delivered? Otherwise, how could this situation be +explained?</p> +<p>Such a thing as inhospitality could not be +imagined by Helen Morrell. A begging Indian +was never turned away from Sunset Ranch. A +perfect stranger—even a sheepman—would be +hospitably treated in Montana.</p> +<p>The soft patter of the footman’s steps soon +sounded and the sharp eyes disappeared. There +was a moment’s whispering behind the curtain. +Then the liveried Englishman appeared. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span></p> +<p>“Will you step this way, Miss?” he said, +gravely. “Mrs. Olstrom will see you in her sitting-room. +Leave your bag there, Miss.”</p> +<p>“No. I guess I’ll hold onto it,” she said, aloud.</p> +<p>The footman looked pained, but said nothing. +He led the way haughtily into the rear of the +premises again. At a door he knocked.</p> +<p>“Come in!” said a sharp voice, and Helen was +ushered into the presence of a female with a face +quite in keeping with the tone of her voice.</p> +<p>The lady was of uncertain age. She wore a +cap, but it did not entirely hide the fact that her +thin, straw-colored hair was done up in curl-papers. +She was vinegary of feature, her light blue eyes +were as sharp as gimlets, and her lips were continually +screwed up into the expression of one +determined to say “prunes.”</p> +<p>She sat in a straight-backed chair in the sitting-room, +in a flowered silk bed-wrapper, and she +looked just as glad to see Helen as though the girl +were her deadliest enemy.</p> +<p>“Who are you?” she demanded.</p> +<p>“I am Helen Morrell,” said the girl.</p> +<p>“What do you want of Mr. Starkweather at +this hour?”</p> +<p>“Just what I would want of him at any hour,” +returned the Western girl, who was beginning to +become heartily exasperated. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p> +<p>“What’s that, Miss?” snapped the housekeeper.</p> +<p>“I have come to him for hospitality. I +am his relative—rather, I am Aunt Eunice’s relative——”</p> +<p>“What do you mean, child?” exclaimed the +lady, with sudden emotion. “Who is your Aunt +Eunice?”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Starkweather. He married my mother’s +sister—my Aunt Eunice.”</p> +<p>“Mrs. Starkweather!” gasped Mrs. Olstrom.</p> +<p>“Of course.”</p> +<p>“Then, where have <i>you</i> been these past three +years?” demanded the housekeeper in wonder. +“Mrs. Starkweather has been dead all of that +time. Mr. Willets Starkweather is a widower.”</p> +<p>“Aunt Eunice dead?” cried Helen.</p> +<p>The news was a distinct shock to the girl. She +forgot everything else for the moment. Her face +told her story all too well, and the housekeeper +could not doubt her longer.</p> +<p>“You’re a relative, then?”</p> +<p>“Her—her niece, Helen Morrell,” sobbed +Helen. “Oh! I did not know—I did not +know——”</p> +<p>“Never mind. You are entitled to hospitality +and protection. Did you just arrive?”</p> +<p>“Yes, ma’am.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span></p> +<p>“Your home is not near?”</p> +<p>“In Montana.”</p> +<p>“My goodness! You cannot go back to-night, +that is sure. But why did you not write?”</p> +<p>“I telegraphed I was coming.”</p> +<p>“I never heard of it. Perhaps the message was +not received. Gregson!”</p> +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” replied the footman.</p> +<p>“You said something about a taxicab waiting +outside with this young lady’s luggage?”</p> +<p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p> +<p>“Go and pay the man and have the baggage +brought in——”</p> +<p>“I’ll pay for it, ma’am,” said Helen, hastily, +trying to unlock her bag.</p> +<p>“That will be all right. I will settle it with +Mr. Starkweather. Here is money, Gregson. +Pay the fare and give the man a quarter for himself. +Have the trunk brought into the basement. +I will attend to Miss—er——?”</p> +<p>“Morrell.”</p> +<p>“Miss Morrell, myself,” finished the housekeeper.</p> +<p>The footman withdrew. The housekeeper +looked hard at Helen for several moments.</p> +<p>“So you came here expecting hospitality—in +your uncle’s house—and from your cousins?” she +observed, jerkily. “Well!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span></p> +<p>She got up and motioned Helen to take up her +bag.</p> +<p>“Come. I have no orders regarding you. I +shall give you one of the spare rooms. You are +entitled to that much. No knowing when either +Mr. Starkweather or the young ladies will be +at home,” she said, grimly.</p> +<p>“I hope you won’t put yourself out,” observed +Helen, politely.</p> +<p>“I am not likely to,” returned Mrs. Olstrom. +“It is you who will be more likely—— Well!” +she finished, without making her meaning very +plain.</p> +<p>This reception, to cap all that had gone before +since she had arrived at the Grand Central Terminal, +chilled Helen. The shock of discovering +that her mother’s sister was dead—and she and +her father had not been informed of it—was no +small one, either. She wished now that she had +not come to the house at all.</p> +<p>“I would better have gone to a hotel until I +found out how they felt toward me,” thought the +girl from the ranch.</p> +<p>Yet Helen was just. She began to tell herself +that neither Mr. Starkweather nor her cousins +were proved guilty of the rudeness of her reception. +The telegram might have gone astray. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span> +They might never have dreamed of her coming on +from Sunset Ranch to pay them a visit.</p> +<p>The housekeeper began to warm toward her in +manner, at least. She took her up another flight +of stairs and to a very large and handsomely furnished +chamber, although it was at the rear of the +house, and right beside the stairs leading to the +servants’ quarters. At least, so Mrs. Olstrom +said they were.</p> +<p>“You will not mind, Miss,” she said, grimly. +“You may hear the sound of walking in this hall. +It is nothing. The foolish maids call it ‘the ghost +walk’; but it is only a sound. You’re not superstitious; +are you?”</p> +<p>“I hope not!” exclaimed Helen.</p> +<p>“Well! I have had to send away one or two +girls. The house is very old. There are some +queer stories about it. Well! What is a sound?”</p> +<p>“Very true, ma’am,” agreed Helen, rather confused, +but bound to be polite.</p> +<p>“Now, Miss, will you have some supper? Mr. +Lawdor can get you some in the butler’s pantry. +He has a chafing dish there and often prepares late +bites for his master.”</p> +<p>“No, ma’am; I am not hungry,” Helen declared. +“I had dinner in the dining car at seven.”</p> +<p>“Then I will leave you—unless you should +wish something further?” said the housekeeper. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span></p> +<p>“Here is your bath,” opening a door into the anteroom. +“I will place a note upon Mr. Starkweather’s +desk saying that you are here. Will you +need your trunk up to-night, Miss?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, indeed,” Helen declared. “I have a +kimono here—and other things. I’ll be glad of +the bath, though. One does get so dusty traveling.”</p> +<p>She was unlocking her bag. For a moment she +hesitated, half tempted to take the housekeeper +into her confidence regarding her money. But the +woman went directly to the door and bowed herself +out with a stiff:</p> +<p>“Good-night, Miss.”</p> +<p>“My! But this is a friendly place!” mused +Helen, when she was left alone. “And they seem +to have so much confidence in strangers!”</p> +<p>Therefore, she went to the door into the hall, +found there was a bolt upon it, and shot it home. +Then she pulled the curtain across the keyhole +before sitting down and counting all her money +over again.</p> +<p>“They got <i>me</i> doing it!” muttered Helen. +“I shall be afraid of every person I meet in this +man’s town.”</p> +<p>But by and by she hopped up, hid the wallet +under her pillow (the bed was a big one with deep +mattress and downy pillows) and then ran to let +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +her bath run in the little room where Mrs. Olstrom +had snapped on the electric light.</p> +<p>She undressed slowly, shook out her garments, +hung them properly to air, and stepped into the +grateful bath. How good it felt after her long +and tiresome journey by train!</p> +<p>But as she was drying herself on the fleecy +towels she suddenly heard a sound outside her +door. After the housekeeper left her the whole +building had seemed as silent as a tomb. Now +there was a steady rustling noise in the short corridor +on which her room opened.</p> +<p>“What <i>did</i> that woman ask me?” murmured +Helen. “Was I afraid of ghosts?”</p> +<p>She laughed a little. To a healthy, normal, +outdoor girl the supernatural had few +terrors.</p> +<p>“It <i>is</i> a funny sound,” she admitted, hastily +finished the drying process and then slipping into +her nightrobe, kimono, and bed slippers.</p> +<p>All the time her ear seemed preternaturally +attuned to that rising and waning sound without +her chamber. It seemed to come toward the door, +pass it, move lightly away, and then turn and repass +again. It was a steady, regular——</p> +<p><i>Step—put; step—put; step—put——</i></p> +<p>And with it was the rustle of garments—or so +it seemed. The girl grew momentarily more curious. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +The mystery of the strange sound certainly +was puzzling.</p> +<p>“Who ever heard of a ghost with a wooden +leg?” she thought, chuckling softly to herself. +“And that is what it sounds like. No wonder +the servants call this corridor ‘the ghost walk.’ +Well, me for bed!”</p> +<p>She had already snapped out the electric light +in the bathroom, and now hopped into bed, reaching +up to pull the chain of the reading light as +she did so. The top of one window was down +half-way and the noise of the city at midnight +reached her ear in a dull monotone.</p> +<p>Back here at the rear of the great mansion, +street sounds were faint. In the distance, to the +eastward, was the roar of a passing elevated train. +An automobile horn hooted raucously.</p> +<p>But steadily, through all other sounds, as an +accompaniment to them and to Helen Morrell’s +own thoughts, was the continuous rustle in the +corridor outside her door:</p> +<p><i>Step—put; step—put; step—put.</i></p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_MORNING' id='X_MORNING'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>MORNING</h3> +</div> + +<p>The Starkweather mansion was a large dwelling. +Built some years before the Civil War, it +had been one of the “great houses” in its day, to +be pointed out to the mid-nineteenth century visitor +to the metropolis. Of course, when the sightseeing +coaches came in fashion they went up Fifth +Avenue and passed by the stately mansions of the +Victorian era, on Madison Avenue, without comment.</p> +<p>Willets Starkweather had sprung from a quite +mean and un-noted branch of the family, and had +never, until middle life, expected to live in the +Madison Avenue homestead. The important +members of his clan were dead and gone and their +great fortunes scattered. Willets Starkweather +could barely keep up with the expenditures of his +great household.</p> +<p>There were never servants enough, and Mrs. +Olstrom, the very capable housekeeper, who had +served the present master’s great-uncle before the +day of the new generation, had hard work to satisfy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +the demands of those there were upon the +means allowed her by Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>There were rooms in the house—especially upon +the topmost floor—into which even the servants +seldom went. There were vacant rooms which +never knew broom nor duster. The dwelling, indeed, +was altogether too large for the needs of Mr. +Starkweather and his three motherless daughters.</p> +<p>But their living in it gave them a prestige which +nothing else could. As wise as any match-making +matron, Willets Starkweather knew that the +family’s address at this particular number on +Madison Avenue would aid his daughters more +in “making a good match” than anything else.</p> +<p>He could not dower them. Really, they needed +no dower with their good looks, for they were all +pretty. The Madison Avenue mansion gave them +the open sesame into good society—choice society, +in fact—and there some wealthy trio of unattached +young men must see and fall in love with +them.</p> +<p>And the girls understood this, too—right down +to fourteen-year-old Flossie. They all three knew +that to “pay poor papa” for reckless expenditures +now, they must sooner or later capture +moneyed husbands.</p> +<p>So, there was more than one reason why the +three Starkweather girls leaped immediately from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span> +childhood into full-blown womanhood. Flossie +had already privately studied the characters—and +possible bank accounts—of the boys of her acquaintance, +to decide upon whom she should smile +her sweetest.</p> +<p>These facts—save that the mansion was enormous—were +hidden from Helen when she arose +on the first morning of her city experience. She +had slept soundly and sweetly. Even the rustling +steps on the ghost walk had not bothered her for +long.</p> +<p>Used to being up and out by sunrise, she could +not easily fall in with city ways. She hustled out +of bed soon after daybreak, took a cold sponge, +which made her body tingle delightfully, and got +into her clothes as rapidly as any boy.</p> +<p>She had only the shoddy-looking brown traveling +dress to wear, and the out-of-date hat. But +she put them on, and ventured downstairs, intent +upon going out for a walk before breakfast.</p> +<p>The solemn clock in the hall chimed seven as +she found her way down the lower flight of front +stairs. As she came through the curtain-hung halls +and down the stairs, not a soul did she meet until +she reached the front hall. There a rather decrepit-looking +man, with a bleared eye, and dressed +in decent black, hobbled out of a parlor to meet +her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></p> +<p>“Bless me!” he ejaculated. “What—what—what——”</p> +<p>“I am Helen Morrell,” said the girl from Sunset +Ranch, smiling, and judging that this must +be the butler of whom the housekeeper had spoken +the night before. “I have just come to visit my +uncle and cousins.”</p> +<p>“Bless me!” said the old man again. “Gregson +told me. Proud to see you, Miss. But—you’re +dressed to go out, Miss?”</p> +<p>“For a walk, sir,” replied Helen, nodding.</p> +<p>“At this hour? Bless me—bless me—bless +me——”</p> +<p>He seemed apt to run off in this style, in an +unending string of mild expletives. His head +shook and his hands seemed palsied. But he was +a polite old man.</p> +<p>“I beg of you, Miss, don’t go out without a +bit of breakfast. My own coffee is dripping in +the percolator. Let me give you a cup,” he said.</p> +<p>“Why—if it’s not too much trouble, sir——”</p> +<p>“This way, Miss,” he said, hurrying on before, +and leading Helen to a cozy little room at +the back. This corresponded with the housekeeper’s +sitting-room and Helen believed it must +be Mr. Lawdor’s own apartment.</p> +<p>He laid a small cloth with a flourish. He set +forth a silver breakfast set. He did everything +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +neatly and with an alacrity that surprised Helen +in one so evidently decrepit.</p> +<p>“A chop, now, Miss? Or a rasher?” he asked, +pointing to an array of electric appliances on the +sideboard by which a breakfast might be “tossed +up” in a hurry.</p> +<p>“No, no,” Helen declared. “Not so early. +This nice coffee and these delicious rolls are enough +until I have earned more.”</p> +<p>“Earned more, Miss?” he asked, in surprise.</p> +<p>“By exercise,” she explained. “I am going to +take a good tramp. Then I shall come back as +hungry as a mountain lion.”</p> +<p>“The family breakfasts at nine, Miss,” said the +butler, bowing. “But if you are an early riser +you will always find something tidy here in my +room, Miss. You are very welcome.”</p> +<p>She thanked him and went out into the hall +again. The footman in livery—very sleepy and +tousled as yet—was unchaining the front door. A +yawning maid was at work in one of the parlors +with a duster. She stared at Helen in amazement, +but Gregson stood stiffly at attention as the visitor +went forth into the daylight.</p> +<p>“My, how funny city people live!” thought +Helen Morrell. “I don’t believe I ever could +stand it. Up till all hours, and then no breakfast +until nine. <i>What</i> a way to live! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span></p> +<p>“And there must be twice as many servants as +there are members of the family—— Why! more +than that! And all that big house to get lost in,” +she added, glancing up at it as she started off +upon her walk.</p> +<p>She turned the first corner and went through a +side street toward the west. This was not a business +side street. There were several tall apartment +hotels interspersed with old houses.</p> +<p>She came to Fifth Avenue—“the most beautiful +street in the world.” It had been swept and +garnished by a horde of white-robed men since +two o’clock. On this brisk October morning, from +the Washington Arch to 110th Street, it was as +clean as a whistle.</p> +<p>She walked uptown. At Thirty-fourth and +Forty-second streets the crosstown traffic had already +begun. She passed the new department +stores, already opening their eyes and yawning in +advance of the day’s trade.</p> +<p>There were a few pedestrians headed uptown +like herself. Some well-dressed men seemed walking +to business. A few neat shop girls were hurrying +along the pavement, too. But Helen, and the +dogs in leash, had the avenue mostly to themselves +at this hour.</p> +<p>The sleepy maids, or footmen, or pages stared +at the Western girl with curiosity as she strode +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +along. For, unlike many from the plains, Helen +could walk well in addition to riding well.</p> +<p>She reached the plaza, and crossing it, entered +the park. The trees were just coloring prettily. +There were morning sounds from the not-far-distant +zoo. A few early nursemaids and their +charges asleep in baby carriages, were abroad. +Several old gentlemen read their morning papers +upon the benches, or fed the squirrels who were +skirmishing for their breakfasts.</p> +<p>Several plainly-dressed people were evidently +taking their own “constitutionals” through the +park paths. Swinging down from the north come +square-shouldered, cleanly-shaven young men of +the same type as Dud Stone. Helen believed that +Dud must be a typical New Yorker.</p> +<p>But there were no girls abroad—at least, girls +like herself who had leisure. And Helen was +timid about making friends with the nursemaids.</p> +<p>In fact, there wasn’t a soul who smiled upon +her as she walked through the paths. She would +not have dared approach any person she met for +any purpose whatsoever.</p> +<p>“They haven’t a grain of interest in me,” +thought Helen. “Many of them, I suppose, +don’t even see me. Goodness, what a lot of self-centred +people there must be in New York!”</p> +<p>She wandered on and on. She had no watch—never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +had owned one. As she had told Dud +Stone, the stars at night were her clock, and by +day she judged the hour by the sun.</p> +<p>The sun was behind a haze now; but she had +another sure timekeeper. There was nothing the +matter with Helen’s appetite.</p> +<p>“I’ll go back and join the family at breakfast,” +the girl thought. “I hope they’ll be nice to me. +And poor Aunt Eunice dead without our ever being +told of it! Strange!”</p> +<p>She had come a good way. Indeed, she was +some time in finding an outlet from the park. The +sun was behind the morning haze as yet, but she +turned east, and finally came out upon the avenue +some distance above the gateway by which she had +entered.</p> +<p>A southbound auto-bus caught her eye and she +signaled it. She not only had brought her purse +with her, but the wallet with her money was stuffed +inside her blouse and made an uncomfortable +lump there at her waist. But she hid this with +her arm, feeling that she must be on the watch for +some sharper all the time.</p> +<p>“Big Hen was right when he warned me,” she +repeated, eyeing suspiciously the several passengers +in the Fifth Avenue bus.</p> +<p>They were mostly early shoppers, however, or +gentlemen riding to their offices. She had noticed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +the number of the street nearest her uncle’s house, +and so got out at the right corner.</p> +<p>The change in this part of the town since she +had walked away from it soon after seven, amazed +her. She almost became confused and started in +the wrong direction. The roar of traffic, the rattle +of riveters at work on several new buildings in +the neighborhood, the hoarse honking of automobiles, +the shrill whistles of the traffic policemen +at the corners, and the various other sounds +seemed to make another place of the old-fashioned +Madison Avenue block.</p> +<p>“My goodness! To live in such confusion, +and yet have money enough to be able to enjoy +a home out of town,” thought Helen. “How +foolish of Uncle Starkweather.”</p> +<p>She made no mistake in the house this time. +There was Gregson—now spick and span in his +maroon livery—haughtily mounting guard over +the open doorway while a belated scrubwoman was +cleaning the steps and areaway.</p> +<p>Helen tripped up the steps with a smile for +Gregson; but that wooden-faced subject of King +George had no joint in his neck. He could merely +raise a finger in salute.</p> +<p>“Is the family up, sir?” she asked, politely.</p> +<p>“In Mr. Starkweather’s den, Miss,” said the +footman, being unable to leave his post at the moment. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +Mr. Lawdor was not in sight and Helen +set out to find the room in question, wondering +if the family had already breakfasted. The clock +in the hall chimed the quarter to ten as she +passed it.</p> +<p>The great rooms on this floor were open now; +but empty. She suddenly heard voices. She found +a cross passage that she had not noticed before, +and entered it, the voices growing louder.</p> +<p>She came to a door before which hung heavy +curtains; but these curtains did not deaden the +sound entirely. Indeed, as Helen hesitated, with +her hand stretched out to seize the portière, she +heard something that halted her.</p> +<p>Indeed, what she heard within the next few +moments entirely changed the outlook of the girl +from Sunset Ranch. It matured that doubt of +humanity that had been born the night before in +her breast.</p> +<p>And it changed—for the time being at least—Helen’s +nature. From a frank, open-hearted, loving +girl she became suspicious, morose and secretive. +The first words she heard held her spell-bound—an +unintentional eavesdropper. And what +she heard made her determined to appear to her +unkind relatives quite as they expected her to +appear.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_LIVING_UP_TO_ONE_S_REPUTATION' id='XI_LIVING_UP_TO_ONE_S_REPUTATION'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>LIVING UP TO ONE’S REPUTATION</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Well! my lady certainly takes her time about +getting up,” Belle Starkweather was saying.</p> +<p>“She was tired after her journey, I presume,” +her father said.</p> +<p>“Across the continent in a day-coach, I suppose,” +laughed Hortense, yawning.</p> +<p>“I <i>was</i> astonished at that bill for taxi hire +Olstrom put on your desk, Pa,” said Belle. “She +must have ridden all over town before she came +here.”</p> +<p>“A girl who couldn’t take a plain hint,” cried +Hortense, “and stay away altogether when we +didn’t answer her telegram——”</p> +<p>“Hush, girls. We must treat her kindly,” said +their father. “Ahem!”</p> +<p>“I don’t see <i>why</i>?” demanded Hortense, +bluntly.</p> +<p>“You don’t understand everything,” responded +Mr. Starkweather, rather weakly.</p> +<p>“I don’t understand <i>you</i>, Pa, sometimes,” declared +Hortense. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p> +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you one thing right now!” +snapped the older girl. “I’ve ordered her things +taken out of that chamber. Her shabby old trunk +has gone up to the room at the top of the servants’ +stairway. It’s good enough for her.”</p> +<p>“We certainly have not got to have this cowgirl +around for long,” continued Hortense. +“She’d be no fit company for Flossie. Flossie’s +rude enough as it is.”</p> +<p>The youngest daughter had gone to school, so +she was not present with her saucy tongue to hold +up her own end of the argument.</p> +<p>“Think of a girl right from a cattle ranch!” +laughed Belle. “Fine! I suppose she knows how +to rope steers, and break ponies, and ride bareback +like an Indian, and all that. Fine accomplishments +for a New York drawing-room, I must say.”</p> +<p>“Oh, yes,” joined in Hortense. “And she’ll +say ‘I reckon,’ and drop her ‘g’s’ and otherwise +insult the King’s English.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! I must warn you girls to be less +boisterous,” advised their father.</p> +<p>“Why, you sound as though you were almost +afraid of this cowgirl, Pa,” said Belle, curiously.</p> +<p>“No, no!” protested Mr. Starkweather, hurriedly.</p> +<p>“Pa’s so easy,” complained Hortense. “If I +had my way I wouldn’t let her stay the day out.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span></p> +<p>“But where would she go?” almost whined +Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>“Back where she came from.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps the folks there don’t want her,” said +Belle.</p> +<p>“Of course she’s a pauper,” observed Hortense.</p> +<p>“Give her some money and send her away, Pa,” +begged Belle.</p> +<p>“You ought to. She’s not fit to associate with +Flossie. You know just how Floss picks up every +little thing——”</p> +<p>“And she’s that man’s daughter, too, you +know,” remarked Belle.</p> +<p>“Ahem!” said their father, weakly.</p> +<p>“It’s not decent to have her here.”</p> +<p>“Of course, other people will remember what +Morrell did. It will make a scandal for us.”</p> +<p>“I cannot help it! I cannot help it!” cried +Mr. Starkweather, suddenly breaking out and +battling against his daughters as he sometimes did +when they pressed him too closely. “I cannot +send her away.”</p> +<p>“Well, she mustn’t be encouraged to stay,” declared +Hortense.</p> +<p>“I should say not,” rejoined Belle.</p> +<p>“And getting up at this hour to breakfast,” +Hortense sniffed.</p> +<p>Helen Morrell wore strong, well-made walking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +boots. Good shoes were something that she could +always buy in Elberon. But usually she walked +lightly and springily.</p> +<p>Now she came stamping through the small hall, +and on the heels of the last remark, flung back +the curtain and strode into the den.</p> +<p>“Hullo, folks!” she cried. “Goodness! don’t +you get up till noon here in town? I’ve been clean +out to your city park while I waited for you to +wash your faces. Uncle Starkweather! how be +you?”</p> +<p>She had grabbed the hand of the amazed gentleman +and was now pumping it with a vigor that +left him breathless.</p> +<p>“And these air two of your gals?” quoth +Helen. “I bet I can pick ’em out by name,” and +she laughed loudly. “This is Belle; ain’t it? Put +it thar!” and she took the resisting Belle’s hand +and squeezed it in her own brown one until +the older girl winced, muscular as she herself +was.</p> +<p>“And this is ’Tense—I know!” added the girl +from Sunset Ranch, reaching for the hand of her +other cousin.</p> +<p>“No, you don’t!” cried Hortense, putting her +hands behind her. “Why! you’d crush my +hand.”</p> +<p>“Ho, ho!” laughed Helen, slapping her hand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span> +heartily upon her knee as she sat down. “Ain’t +you the puny one!”</p> +<p>“I’m no great, rude——”</p> +<p>“Ahem!” exclaimed Mr. Starkweather, recovering +from his amazement in time to shut off the +snappy remark of Hortense. “We—we are glad +to see you, girl——”</p> +<p>“I knew you’d be!” cried Helen, loudly. “I +told ’em back on the ranch that you an’ the gals +would jest about eat me up, you’d be so glad, +when ye seen me. Relatives oughter be neighborly.”</p> +<p>“Neighborly!” murmured Hortense. “And +from Montana!”</p> +<p>“Butcher got another one; ain’t ye, Uncle +Starkweather?” demanded the metamorphosed +Helen, looking about with a broad smile. +“Where’s the little tad?”</p> +<p>“‘Little tad’! Oh, won’t Flossie be pleased?” +again murmured Hortense.</p> +<p>“My youngest daughter is at school,” replied +Mr. Starkweather, nervously.</p> +<p>“Shucks! of course,” said Helen, nodding. “I +forgot they go to school half their lives down +east here. Out my way we don’t get much chance +at schoolin’.”</p> +<p>“So I perceive,” remarked Hortense, aloud.</p> +<p>“Now I expect <i>you</i>,’Tense,” said Helen, wickedly, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span> +“have been through all the isms and the +ologies there be—eh? You look like you’d been +all worn to a frazzle studyin’.”</p> +<p>Belle giggled. Hortense bridled.</p> +<p>“I really wish you wouldn’t call me out of my +name,” she said.</p> +<p>“Huh?”</p> +<p>“My name is Hortense,” said that young lady, +coldly.</p> +<p>“Shucks! So it is. But that’s moughty long +for a single mouthful.”</p> +<p>Belle giggled again. Hortense looked disgusted. +Uncle Starkweather was somewhat shocked.</p> +<p>“We—ahem!—hope you will enjoy yourself +here while you—er—remain,” he began. “Of +course, your visit will be more or less brief, I +suppose?”</p> +<p>“Jest accordin’ to how ye like me and how I +like you folks,” returned the girl from Sunset +Ranch, heartily. “When Big Hen seen me +off——”</p> +<p>“Who—<i>who</i>?” demanded Hortense, faintly.</p> +<p>“Big Hen Billings,” said Helen, in an explanatory +manner. “Hen was dad’s—that is he worked +with dad on the ranch. When I come away I +told Big Hen not to look for me back till I arrove. +Didn’t know how I’d find you-all, or how I’d +like the city. City’s all right; only nobody gets +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span> +up early. And I expect we-all can’t tell how we +like each other until we get better acquainted.”</p> +<p>“Very true—very true,” remarked Mr. Starkweather, +faintly.</p> +<p>“But, goodness! I’m hungry!” exclaimed +Helen. “You folks ain’t fed yet; have ye?”</p> +<p>“We have breakfasted,” said Belle, scornfully. +“I will ring for the butler. You may tell Lawdor +what you want—er—<i>Cousin</i> Helen,” and she +looked at Hortense.</p> +<p>“Sure!” cried Helen. “Sorry to keep you waiting. +Ye see, I didn’t have any watch and the sun +was clouded over this morning. Sort of run over +my time limit—eh? Ah!—is this Mr. Lawdor?”</p> +<p>The shaky old butler stood in the doorway.</p> +<p>“It is <i>Lawdor</i>,” said Belle, emphatically. “Is +there any breakfast left, Lawdor?”</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss Belle. When Gregson told me the +young miss was not at the table I kept something +hot and hot for her, Miss. Shall I serve it in my +room?”</p> +<p>“You may as well,” said Belle, carelessly. +“And, <i>Cousin</i> Helen!”</p> +<p>“Yep?” chirped the girl from the ranch.</p> +<p>“Of course, while you are here, we could not +have you in the room you occupied last night. It—it +might be needed. I have already told Olstrom, +the housekeeper, to take your bag and other things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +up to the next floor. Ask one of the maids to +show you the room you are to occupy—<i>while you +remain</i>.”</p> +<p>“That’s all right, Belle,” returned the Western +girl, with great heartiness. “Any old place will +do for me. Why! I’ve slept on the ground more +nights than you could shake a stick at,” and she +tramped off after the tottering butler.</p> +<p>“Well!” gasped Hortense when she was +out of hearing, “what do you know about <i>that</i>?”</p> +<p>“Pa, do you intend to let that dowdy little +thing stay here?” cried Belle.</p> +<p>“Ahem!” murmured Mr. Starkweather, running +a finger around between his collar and his +neck, as though to relieve the pressure there.</p> +<p>“Her clothes came out of the ark!” declared +Hortense.</p> +<p>“And that hat!”</p> +<p>“And those boots—or is it because she clumps +them so? I expect she is more used to riding than +to walking.”</p> +<p>“And her language!” rejoined Belle.</p> +<p>“Ahem! What—what can we do, girls?” +gasped Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>“Put her out!” cried Belle, loudly and angrily.</p> +<p>“She is quite too, too impossible, Pa,” agreed +Hortense.</p> +<p>“With her coarse jokes,” said the older sister. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span></p> +<p>“And her rough way,” echoed the other.</p> +<p>“And that ugly dress and hat.”</p> +<p>“A pauper relation! Faugh! I didn’t know +the Starkweathers owned one.”</p> +<p>“Seems to me, <i>one</i> queer person in the house is +enough,” began Hortense.</p> +<p>Her father and sister looked at her sharply.</p> +<p>“Why, Hortense!” exclaimed Belle.</p> +<p>“Ahem!” observed Mr. Starkweather, warningly.</p> +<p>“Well! we don’t want <i>that</i> freak in the house,” +grumbled the younger sister.</p> +<p>“There are—ahem!—some things best left unsaid,” +observed her father, pompously. “But +about this girl from the West——”</p> +<p>“Yes, Pa!” cried his daughters in duet.</p> +<p>“I will see what can be done. Of course, she +cannot expect me to support her for long. I will +have a serious talk with her.”</p> +<p>“When, Pa?” cried the two girls again.</p> +<p>“Er—ahem!—soon,” declared the gentleman, +and beat a hasty retreat.</p> +<p>“It had better be pretty soon,” said Belle, bitterly, +to her sister. “For I won’t stand that +dowdy thing here for long, now I tell you!”</p> +<p>“Good for you, Belle!” rejoined Hortense, +warmly. “It’s strange if we can’t—with Flossie’s +help—soon make her sick of her visit.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII__I_MUST_LEARN_THE_TRUTH' id='XII__I_MUST_LEARN_THE_TRUTH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>“I MUST LEARN THE TRUTH”</h3> +</div> + +<p>Helen was already very sick of her Uncle +Starkweather’s home and family. But she was +too proud to show the depth of her feeling before +the old serving man in whose charge she had been +momentarily placed.</p> +<p>Lawdor was plainly pleased to wait upon her. +He made fresh coffee in his own percolator; there +was a cutlet kept warm upon an electric stove, and +he insisted upon frying her a rasher of bacon and +some eggs.</p> +<p>Despite all that mentally troubled her, her +healthy body needed nourishment and Helen ate +with an appetite that pleased the old man immensely.</p> +<p>“If—if you go out early, Miss, don’t forget +to come here for your coffee,” he said. “Or more, +if you please. I shall be happy to serve you.”</p> +<p>“And I’m happy to have you,” returned the +girl, heartily.</p> +<p>She could not assume to him the rude tone and +manner which she had displayed to her uncle +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span> +and cousins. <i>That</i> had been the outcome of an +impulse which had risen from the unkind expressions +she had heard them use about her.</p> +<p>As soon as she could get away, she had ceased +being an eavesdropper. But she had heard enough +to assure her that her relatives were not glad to +see her; that they were rude and unkind, and that +they were disturbed by her presence among them.</p> +<p>But there was another thing she had drawn +from their ill-advised talk, too. She had heard +her father mentioned in no kind way. Hints were +thrown out that Prince Morrell’s crime—or the +crime of which he had been accused—was still remembered +in New York.</p> +<p>Back into her soul had come that wave of feeling +she experienced after her father’s death. He +had been so troubled by the smirch upon his name—the +cloud that had blighted his young manhood +in the great city.</p> +<p>“I’ll know the truth,” she thought again. “I’ll +find out who <i>was</i> guilty. They sha’n’t drive me +away until I have accomplished my object in coming +East.”</p> +<p>This was the only thought she had while she +remained under old Lawdor’s eye. She had to +bear up, and seem unruffled until the breakfast was +disposed of and she could escape upstairs.</p> +<p>She went up the servants’ way. She saw the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +same girl she had noticed in the parlor early in +the morning.</p> +<p>“Can you show me my room?” she asked her, +timidly.</p> +<p>“Top o’ the next flight. Door’s open,” replied +the girl, shortly.</p> +<p>Already the news had gone abroad among the +under servants that this was a poor relation. No +tips need be expected. The girl flirted her cloth +and turned her back upon Helen as the latter +started through the ghost walk and up the other +stairway.</p> +<p>She easily found the room. It was quite as good +as her own room at the ranch, as far as size and +furniture went. Helen would have been amply +satisfied with it had the room been given to her in +a different spirit.</p> +<p>But now she closed her door, locked it carefully, +hung her jacket over the knob that she should be +sure she was not spied upon, and sat down beside +the bed.</p> +<p>She was not a girl who cried often. She had +wept sincere tears the evening before when she +learned that Aunt Eunice was dead. But she could +not weep now.</p> +<p>Her emotion was emphatically wrathful. Without +cause—that she could see—these city relatives +had maligned her—had maligned her father’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span> +memory—and had cruelly shown her, a stranger, +how they thoroughly hated her presence.</p> +<p>She had come away from Sunset Ranch with +two well-devised ideas in her mind. First of all, +she hoped to clear her father’s name of that old +smirch upon it. Secondly, he had wished her to +live with her relatives if possible, that she might +become used to the refinements and circumstances +of a more civilized life.</p> +<p>Refinements! Why, these cousins of hers hadn’t +the decencies of red Indians!</p> +<p>On impulse Helen had taken the tone she had +with them—had showed them in “that cowgirl” +just what they had expected to find. She would be +bluff and rude and ungrammatical and ill-bred. +Perhaps the spirit in which Helen did this was not +to be commended; but she had begun it on the impulse +of the moment and she felt she must keep it +up during her stay in the Starkweather house.</p> +<p>How long that would be Helen was not prepared +to say now. It was in her heart one moment +not to unpack her trunk at all. She could go to +a hotel—the best in New York, if she so desired. +How amazed her cousins would be if they knew +that she was at this moment carrying more than +eight hundred dollars in cash on her person? And +suppose they learned that she owned thousands +upon thousands of acres of grazing land in her +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +own right, on which roamed unnumbered cattle +and horses?</p> +<p>Suppose they found out that she had been +schooled in a first-class institution in Denver—probably +as well schooled as they themselves? +What would they say? How would they feel +should they suddenly make these discoveries?</p> +<p>But, while she sat there and studied the problem +out, Helen came to at least one determination: +While she remained in the Starkweather house she +would keep from her uncle and cousins the knowledge +of these facts.</p> +<p>She would not reveal her real character to them. +She would continue to parade before them and +before their friends the very rudeness and ignorance +that they had expected her to betray.</p> +<p>“They are ashamed of me—let them be +ashamed,” she said, to herself, bitterly. “They +hate me—I’ll give them no reason for loving me, +I promise you! They think me a pauper—I’ll <i>be</i> +a pauper. Until I get ready to leave here, at +least. Then I can settle with Uncle Starkweather +in one lump for all the expense to which he may be +put for me.</p> +<p>“I’ll buy no nice dresses—or hats—or anything +else. They sha’n’t know I have a penny to spend. +If they want to treat me like a poor relation, let +them. I’ll <i>be</i> a poor relation. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span></p> +<p>“I must learn the truth about poor dad’s trouble,” +she told herself again. “Uncle Starkweather +must know something about it. I want to +question him. He may be able to help me. I may +get on the track of that bookkeeper. And he can +tell me, surely, where to find Fenwick Grimes, father’s +old partner.</p> +<p>“No. They shall serve me without knowing it. +I will be beholden to them for my bread and butter +and shelter—for a time. Let them hate and +despise me. What I have to do I will do. Then +I’ll ‘pay the shot,’ as Big Hen would say, and +walk out and leave them.”</p> +<p>It was a bold determination, but not one that is +to be praised. Yet, Helen had provocation for +the course she proposed to pursue.</p> +<p>She finally unlocked her trunk and hung up the +common dresses and other garments she had +brought with her. She had intended to ask her +cousins to take her shopping right away, and she, +like any other girl of her age, longed for new +frocks and pretty hats.</p> +<p>But there was a lot of force in Helen’s character. +She would go without anything pretty unless +her cousins offered to buy it themselves. She +would bide her time.</p> +<p>One thing she hid far back in her closet under +the other things—her riding habit. She knew it +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +would give the lie to her supposed poverty. She +had sent to Chicago for that, and it had cost a +hundred dollars.</p> +<p>“But I don’t suppose there’d be a chance to +ride in this big town,” she thought, with a sigh. +“Unless it is hobby-horses in the park. Well! I +can get on for a time without the Rose pony, or +any other critter on four legs, to love me.”</p> +<p>But she was hungry for the companionship of +the animals whom she had seen daily on the +ranch.</p> +<p>“Why, even the yip of a coyote would be +sweet,” she mused, putting her head out of the +window and scanning nothing but chimneys and +tin roofs, with bare little yards far below.</p> +<p>Finally she heard a Japanese gong’s mellow +note, and presumed it must announce luncheon. +It was already two o’clock. People who breakfasted +at nine or ten, of course did not need a midday +meal.</p> +<p>“I expect they don’t have supper till bedtime,” +thought Helen.</p> +<p>First she hid her wallet in the bottom of her +trunk, locked the trunk and set it up on end in the +closet. Then she locked the closet door and took +out the key, hiding the latter under the edge of the +carpet.</p> +<p>“I’m getting as bad as the rest of ’em,” she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span> +muttered. “I won’t trust anybody, either. Now +for meeting my dear cousins at lunch.”</p> +<p>She had slipped into one of the simple house +dresses she had worn at the ranch. She had noticed +that forenoon that both Belle and Hortense +Starkweather were dressed in the most modish +of gowns—as elaborate as those of fashionable +ladies. With no mother to say them nay, +these young girls aped every new fashion as they +pleased.</p> +<p>Helen started downstairs at first with her usual +light step. Then she bethought herself, stumbled +on a stair, slipped part of the way, and continued +to the very bottom of the last flight with a noise +and clatter which must have announced her coming +long in advance of her actual presence.</p> +<p>“I don’t want to play eavesdropper again,” she +told herself, grimly. “I always understood that +listeners hear no good of themselves, and now I +know it to be a fact.”</p> +<p>Gregson stood at the bottom of the last flight. +His face was as wooden as ever, but he managed +to open his lips far enough to observe:</p> +<p>“Luncheon is served in the breakfast room, +Miss.”</p> +<p>A sweep of his arm pointed the way. Then she +saw old Lawdor pottering in and out of a room +into which she had not yet looked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<p>It proved to be a sunny, small dining-room. +When alone the family usually ate here, Helen +discovered. The real dining-room was big enough +for a dancing floor, with an enormous table, preposterously +heavy furniture all around the four +sides of the room, and an air of gloom that would +have removed, before the food appeared, even, all +trace of a healthy appetite.</p> +<p>When Helen entered the brighter apartment her +three cousins were already before her. The noise +she made coming along the hall, despite the heavy +carpets, had quite prepared them for her appearance.</p> +<p>Belle and Hortense met her with covert smiles. +And they watched their younger sister to see what +impression the girl from Sunset Ranch made upon +Flossie.</p> +<p>“And this is Flossie; is it?” cried Helen, going +boisterously into the room and heading full tilt +around the table for the amazed Flossie. “Why, +you look like a smart young’un! And you’re only +fourteen? Well, I never!”</p> +<p>She seized Flossie by both hands, in spite of that +young lady’s desire to keep them free.</p> +<p>“Goodness me! Keep your paws off—do!” +ejaculated Flossie, in great disgust. “And let +me tell you, if I <i>am</i> only fourteen I’m ’most +as big as you are and I know a whole lot more.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span></p> +<p>“Why, Floss!” exclaimed Hortense, but unable +to hide her amusement.</p> +<p>The girl from Sunset Ranch took it all with +apparent good nature, however.</p> +<p>“I reckon you <i>do</i> know a lot. You’ve had +advantages, you see. Girls out my way don’t +have much chance, and that’s a fact. But if I stay +here, don’t you reckon I’ll learn?”</p> +<p>The Starkweather girls exchanged glances of +amusement.</p> +<p>“I do not think,” said Belle, calmly, “that you +would better think of remaining with us for long. +It would be rather bad for you, I am sure, and +inconvenient for us.”</p> +<p>“How’s that?” demanded Helen, looking at +her blankly. “Inconvenient—and with all this +big house?”</p> +<p>“Ahem!” began Belle, copying her father. +“The house is not always as free of visitors as it +is now. And of course, a girl who has no means +and must earn her living, should not live in +luxury.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” asked Helen, quickly.</p> +<p>“Why—er—well, it would not be nice to have a +working girl go in and out of our house.”</p> +<p>“And you think I shall have to go to work?”</p> +<p>“Why, of course, you may remain here—father +says—until you can place yourself. But he does +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +not believe in fostering idleness. He often says +so,” said Belle, heaping it all on “poor Pa.”</p> +<p>Helen had taken her seat at the table and Gregson +was serving. It mattered nothing to these ill-bred +Starkweather girls that the serving people +heard how they treated this “poor relation.”</p> +<p>Helen remained silent for several minutes. She +tried to look sad. Within, however, she was furiously +angry. But this was not the hour for her +to triumph.</p> +<p>Flossie had been giggling for a few moments. +Now she asked her cousin, saucily:</p> +<p>“I say! Where did you pick up that calico +dress, Helen?”</p> +<p>“This?” returned the visitor, looking down at +the rather ugly print. “It’s a gingham. Bought +it ready-made in Elberon. Do you like it?”</p> +<p>“I love it!” giggled Flossie. “And it’s made +in quite a new style, too.”</p> +<p>“Do you think so? Why, I reckoned it was +old,” said Helen, smoothly. “But I’m glad to +hear it’s so fitten to wear. For, you see, I ain’t got +many clo’es.”</p> +<p>“Don’t you have dressmakers out there in Montana?” +asked Hortense, eyeing the print garment +as though it was something entirely foreign.</p> +<p>“I reckon. But we folks on the range don’t +get much chance at ’em. Dressmakers is as scurce +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +around Sunset Ranch as killyloo birds. Unless +ye mought call Injun squaws dressmakers.”</p> +<p>“What are killyloo birds?” demanded Flossie, +hearing something new.</p> +<p>“Well now! don’t you have them here?” asked +Helen, smiling broadly.</p> +<p>“Never heard of them. And I’ve been to +Bronx Park and seen all the birds in the flying +cage,” said Flossie. “Our Nature teacher takes +us out there frequently. It’s a dreadful bore.”</p> +<p>“Well, I didn’t know but you might have ’em +East here,” observed Helen, pushing along the +time-worn cowboy joke. “I said they was scurce +around the ranch; and they be. I never saw one.”</p> +<p>“Really!” ejaculated Hortense. “What are +killyloo birds good for?”</p> +<p>“Why, near as I ever heard,” replied Helen, +chuckling, “they are mostly used for making folks +ask questions.”</p> +<p>“I declare!” snapped Belle. “She is laughing +at you, girls. You’re very dense, I’m sure, Hortense.”</p> +<p>“Say! that’s a good one!” laughed Flossie. +But Hortense muttered:</p> +<p>“Vulgar little thing!”</p> +<p>Helen smiled tranquilly upon them. Nothing +they said to her could shake her calm. And once +in a while—as in the case above—she “got back” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +at them. She kept consistently to her rude way +of speaking; but she used the tableware with +little awkwardness, and Belle said to Hortense:</p> +<p>“At least somebody’s tried to teach her a few +things. She is no sword-swallower.”</p> +<p>“I suppose Aunt Mary had some refinement,” +returned Hortense, languidly.</p> +<p>Helen’s ears were preternaturally sharp. She +heard everything. But she had such good command +of her features that she showed no emotion +at these side remarks.</p> +<p>After luncheon the three sisters separated for +their usual afternoon amusements. Neither of +them gave a thought to Helen’s loneliness. They +did not ask her what she was going to do, or suggest +anything to her save that, an hour later, when +Belle saw her cousin preparing to leave the house +in the same dress she had worn at luncheon, she +cried:</p> +<p>“Oh, Helen, <i>do</i> go out and come in by the lower +door; will you? The basement door, you know.”</p> +<p>“Sure!” replied Helen, cheerfully. “Saves the +servants work, I suppose, answering the bell.”</p> +<p>But she knew as well as Belle why the request +was made. Belle was ashamed to have her appear +to be one of the family. If she went in and out by +the servants’ door it would not look so bad.</p> +<p>Helen walked over to the avenue and looked at +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +the frocks in the store windows. By their richness +she saw that in this neighborhood, at least, to refit +in a style which would please her cousins would +cost quite a sum of money.</p> +<p>“I won’t do it!” she told herself, stubbornly. +“If they want me to look well enough to go in and +out of the front door, let them suggest buying +something for me.”</p> +<p>She went back to the Starkweather mansion in +good season; but she entered, as she had been told, +by the area door. One of the maids let her in +and tossed her head when she saw what an out-of-date +appearance this poor relation of her master +made.</p> +<p>“Sure,” this girl said to the cook, “if I didn’t +dress better nor <i>her</i> when I went out, I’d wait till +afther dark, so I would!”</p> +<p>Helen heard this, too. But she was a girl who +could stick to her purpose. Criticism should not +move her, she determined; she would continue to +play her part.</p> +<p>“Mr. Starkweather is in the den, Miss,” said +the housekeeper, meeting Helen on the stairs. +“He has asked for you.”</p> +<p>Mrs. Olstrom was a very grim person, indeed. +If she had shown the girl from the ranch some +little kindliness the night before, she now hid it +all very successfully. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span></p> +<p>Helen returned to the lower floor and sought +that room in which she had had her first interview +with her relatives. Mr. Starkweather was +alone. He looked more than a little disturbed; +and of the two he was the more confused.</p> +<p>“Ahem! I feel that we must have a serious +talk together, Helen,” he said, in his pompous +manner. “It—it will be quite necessary—ahem!”</p> +<p>“Sure!” returned the girl. “Glad to. I’ve +got some serious things to ask you, too, sir.”</p> +<p>“Eh? Eh?” exclaimed the gentleman, worried +at once.</p> +<p>“You fire ahead, sir,” said Helen, sitting down +and crossing one knee over the other in a boyish +fashion. “My questions will wait.”</p> +<p>“I—ahem!—I wish to know who suggested +your coming here to New York?”</p> +<p>“My father,” replied Helen, simply and truthfully.</p> +<p>“Your father?” The reply evidently both surprised +and discomposed Mr. Starkweather. “I +do not understand. Your—your father is +dead——”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. It was just before he died.”</p> +<p>“And he told you to come here to—to <i>us</i>?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“But why?” demanded the gentleman with +some warmth. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span></p> +<p>“Dad said as how you folks lived nice, and +knew all about refinement and eddication and all +that. He wanted me to have a better chance than +what I could get on the ranch.”</p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather glared at her in amazement. +He was not at all a kind-hearted man; but he was +very cowardly. He had feared her answer would +be quite different from this, and now took courage.</p> +<p>“Do you mean to say that merely this expressed +wish that you might live at—ahem!—at my expense, +and as my daughters live, brought you here +to New York?”</p> +<p>“That begun it, Uncle,” said Helen, coolly.</p> +<p>“Preposterous! What could Prince Morrell +be thinking of? Why should I support you, +Miss?”</p> +<p>“Why, that don’t matter so much,” remarked +Helen, calmly. “I can earn my keep, I reckon. +If there’s nothing to do in the house I’ll go and +find me a job and pay my board. But, you see, +dad thought I ought to have the refining influences +of city life. Good idea; eh?”</p> +<p>“A very ridiculous idea! A very ridiculous +idea, indeed!” cried Mr. Starkweather. “I never +heard the like.”</p> +<p>“Well, you see, there’s another reason why I +came, too, Uncle,” Helen said, blandly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span></p> +<p>“What’s that?” demanded the gentleman, +startled again.</p> +<p>“Why, dad told me everything when he died. +He—he told me how he got into trouble before +he left New York—’way back there before I was +born,” spoke Helen, softly. “It troubled dad all +his life, Uncle Starkweather. Especially after +mother died. He feared he had not done right +by her and me, after all, in running away when +he was not guilty——”</p> +<p>“Not guilty!”</p> +<p>“Not guilty,” repeated Helen, sternly. “Of +course, we all know <i>that</i>. Somebody got all that +money the firm had in bank; but it was not my +father, sir.”</p> +<p>She gazed straight into the face of Mr. Starkweather. +He did not seem to be willing to look +at her in return; nor could he pluck up the courage +to deny her statement.</p> +<p>“I see,” he finally murmured.</p> +<p>“That is the second reason that has brought me +to New York,” said Helen, more softly. “And +it is the more important reason. If you don’t care +to have me here, Uncle, I will find work that will +support me, and live elsewhere. But I <i>must</i> learn +the truth about that old story against father. I +sha’n’t leave New York until I have cleared his +name.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_SADIE_AGAIN' id='XIII_SADIE_AGAIN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>SADIE AGAIN</h3> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Starkweather appeared to recover his +equanimity. He looked askance at his niece, however, +as she announced her intention.</p> +<p>“You are very young and very foolish, Helen—ahem! +A mystery of sixteen or seventeen years’ +standing, which the best detectives could not unravel, +is scarcely a task to be attempted by a mere +girl.”</p> +<p>“Who else is there to do it?” Helen demanded, +quickly. “I mean to find out the truth, if I can. +I want you to tell me all you know, and I want you +to tell me how to find Fenwick Grimes——”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, nonsense, girl!” exclaimed her +uncle, testily. “What good would it do you to +find Grimes?”</p> +<p>“He was the other partner in the concern. He +had just as good a chance to steal the money as +father.”</p> +<p>“Ridiculous! Mr. Grimes was away from the +city at the time.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span></p> +<p>“Then you <i>do</i> remember all about it, sir?” +asked Helen, quickly.</p> +<p>“Ahem! <i>That</i> fact had not slipped my mind,” +replied her uncle, weakly.</p> +<p>“And then, there was Allen Chesterton, the +bookkeeper. Was a search ever made for him?”</p> +<p>“High and low,” returned her uncle, promptly. +“But nobody ever heard of him thereafter.”</p> +<p>“And why did the shadow of suspicion not fall +upon him as strongly as it did upon my father?” +cried the girl, dropping, in her earnestness, her assumed +uncouthness of speech.</p> +<p>“Perhaps it did—perhaps it did,” muttered Mr. +Starkweather. “Yes, of course it did! They both +ran away, you see——”</p> +<p>“Didn’t you advise dad to go away—until the +matter could be cleared up?” demanded Helen.</p> +<p>“Why—I—ahem!”</p> +<p>“Both you and Mr. Grimes advised it,” went +on the girl, quite firmly. “And father did so because +of the effect his arrest might have upon +mother in her delicate health. Wasn’t that the +way it was?”</p> +<p>“I—I presume that is so,” agreed Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>“And it was wrong,” declared the girl, with all +the confidence of youth. “Poor dad realized it +before he died. It made all the firm’s creditors +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +believe that he was guilty. No matter what he did +thereafter——”</p> +<p>“Stop, girl!” exclaimed Mr. Starkweather. +“Don’t you know that if you stir up this old +business the scandal will all come to light? +Why—why, even <i>my</i> name might be attached +to it.”</p> +<p>“But poor dad suffered under the blight of it +all for more than sixteen years.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! It is a fact. It was a great misfortune. +Perhaps he <i>was</i> advised wrongly,” said Mr. +Starkweather, with trembling lips. “But I want +you to understand, Helen, that if he had not left +the city he would undoubtedly have been in a cell +when you were born.”</p> +<p>“I don’t know that that would have killed me—especially, +if by staying here, he might have come +to trial and been freed of suspicion.”</p> +<p>“But he could not be freed of suspicion.”</p> +<p>“Why not? I don’t see that the evidence was +conclusive,” declared the girl, hotly. “At least, +<i>he</i> knew of none such. And I want to know now +every bit of evidence that could be brought against +him.”</p> +<p>“Useless! Useless!” muttered her uncle, wiping +his brow.</p> +<p>“It is not useless. My father was accused of a +crime of which he wasn’t guilty. Why, his friends +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +here—those who knew him in the old days—will +think me the daughter of a criminal!”</p> +<p>“But you are not likely to meet any of +them——”</p> +<p>“Why not?” demanded Helen, quickly.</p> +<p>“Surely you do not expect to remain here in +New York long enough for that?” said Uncle +Starkweather, exasperated. “I tell you, I cannot +permit it.”</p> +<p>“I must learn what I can about that old trouble +before I go back—if I go back to Montana at all,” +declared his niece, doggedly.</p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather was silent for a few moments. +He had begun the discussion with the settled intention +of telling Helen that she must return at +once to the West. But he knew he had no real +right of control over the girl, and to claim one +would put him at the disadvantage, perhaps, of +being made to support her.</p> +<p>He saw she was a very determined creature, +young as she was. If he antagonized her too +much, she might, indeed, go out and get a position +to support herself and remain a continual thorn +in the side of the family.</p> +<p>So he took another tack. He was not a successful +merchant and real estate operator for nothing. +He said:</p> +<p>“I do not blame you, Helen, for <i>wishing</i> that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +that old cloud over your father’s name might be +dissipated. I wish so, too. But, remember, long +ago your—ahem!—your aunt and I, as well as +Fenwick Grimes, endeavored to get to the bottom +of the mystery. Detectives were hired. Everything +possible was done. And to no avail.”</p> +<p>She watched him narrowly, but said nothing.</p> +<p>“So, how can you be expected to do now what +was impossible when the matter was fresh?” +pursued her uncle, suavely. “If I could help +you——”</p> +<p>“You can,” declared the girl, suddenly.</p> +<p>“Will you tell me how?” he asked, in a rather +vexed tone.</p> +<p>“By telling me where to find Mr. Grimes,” said +Helen.</p> +<p>“Why—er—that is easily done, although I +have had no dealings with Mr. Grimes for many +years. But if he is at home—he travels over +the country a great deal—I can give you a letter +to him and he will see you.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, sir.”</p> +<p>“You are determined to try to rake up all this +trouble?”</p> +<p>“I will see Mr. Grimes. And I will try to find +Allen Chesterton.”</p> +<p>“Out of the question!” cried her uncle. +“Chesterton is dead. He dropped out of sight +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +long ago. A strange character at best, I believe. +And if he was the thief——”</p> +<p>“Well, sir?”</p> +<p>“He certainly would not help you convict himself.”</p> +<p>“Not intentionally, sir,” admitted Helen.</p> +<p>“I never did see such an opinionated girl,” +cried Mr. Starkweather, in sudden wrath.</p> +<p>“I’m sorry, sir, if I trouble you. If you don’t +want me here——”</p> +<p>Now, her uncle had decided that it would not +be safe to have the girl elsewhere in New York. +At least, if she was under his roof, he could keep +track of her activities. He began to be a little +afraid of this very determined, unruffled young +woman.</p> +<p>“She’s a little savage! No knowing what she +might do, after all,” he thought.</p> +<p>Finally he said aloud: “Well, Helen, I will do +what I can. I will communicate with Mr. Grimes +and arrange for you to visit him—soon. I will tell +you—ahem!—in the near future, all I can recollect +of the affair. Will that satisfy you?”</p> +<p>“I will take it very kindly of you, Uncle,” said +Helen non-committally.</p> +<p>“And when you are satisfied of the impossibility +of your doing yourself, or your father’s name, any +good in this direction, I shall expect you to close +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +your visit in the East here and return to your +friends in Montana.”</p> +<p>She nodded, looking at him with a strange expression +on her shrewd face.</p> +<p>“You mean to help me as a sort of a bribe,” she +observed, slowly. “To pay you I am to return +home and never trouble you any more?”</p> +<p>“Well—er—ahem!”</p> +<p>“Is that it, Uncle Starkweather?”</p> +<p>“You see, my dear,” he began again, rather +red in the face, but glad that he was getting out of +a bad corner so easily, “you do not just fit in, here, +with our family life. You see it yourself, perhaps?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps I do, sir,” replied the girl from Sunset +Ranch.</p> +<p>“You would be quite at a disadvantage beside +my girls—ahem! You would not be happy here. +And of course, you haven’t a particle of claim +upon us.”</p> +<p>“No, sir; not a particle,” repeated Helen.</p> +<p>“So you see, all things considered, it would be +much better for you to return to your own people—ahem—<i>own +people</i>,” said Mr. Starkweather, +with emphasis. “Now—er—you are rather +shabby, I fear, Helen. I am not as rich a man as +you may suppose. But I—— The fact is, the girls +are ashamed of your appearance,” he pursued, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +without looking at her, and opening his bill +case.</p> +<p>“Here is ten dollars. I understand that a +young miss like you can be fitted very nicely to a +frock downtown for less than ten dollars. I advise +you to go out to-morrow and find yourself a +more up-to-date frock than—than that one you +have on, for instance.</p> +<p>“Somebody might see you come into the house—ahem!—some +of our friends, I mean, and they +would not understand. Get a new dress, Helen. +While you are here look your best. Ahem! We +all must give the hostage of a neat appearance to +society.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” said Helen, simply.</p> +<p>She took the money. Her throat had contracted +so that she could not thank him for it in words. +But she retained a humble, thankful attitude, and +it sufficed.</p> +<p>He cared nothing about hurting the feelings of +the girl. He did not even inquire—in his own +mind—if she <i>had</i> any feelings to be hurt! He was +so self-centred, so pompous, so utterly selfish, that +he never thought how he might wrong other +people.</p> +<p>Willets Starkweather was very tenacious of his +own dignity and his own rights. But for the +rights of others he cared not at all. And there +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +was not an iota of tenderness in his heart for the +orphan who had come so trustingly across the +continent and put herself in his charge. Indeed, +aside from a feeling of something like fear of +Helen, he betrayed no interest in her at all.</p> +<p>Helen went out of the room without a further +word. She was more subdued that evening at dinner +than she had been before. She did not break +out in rude speeches, nor talk very much. But she +was distinctly out of her element—or so her cousins +thought—at their dinner table.</p> +<p>“I tell you what it is, girls,” Belle, the oldest +cousin, said after the meal and when Helen had +gone up to her room without being invited to join +the family for the evening, “I tell you what it is: +If we chance to have company to dinner while she +remains, I shall send a tray up to her room with +her dinner on it. I certainly could not <i>bear</i> to have +the Van Ramsdens, or the De Vornes, see her at +our table.”</p> +<p>“Quite true,” agreed Hortense. “We never +could explain having such a cousin.”</p> +<p>“Horrors, no!” gasped Flossie.</p> +<p>Helen had found a book in the library, and she +lit the gas in her room (there was no electricity +on this upper floor) and forgot her troubles and +unhappiness in following the fortunes of the +heroine of her story-book. It was late when she +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +heard the maids retire. They slept in rooms +opening out of a side hall.</p> +<p>By and by—after the clock in the Metropolitan +tower had struck the hour of eleven—Helen heard +the rustle and step outside her door which she had +heard in the corridor downstairs. She crept to +her door, after turning out her light, and opening +it a crack, listened.</p> +<p>Had somebody gone downstairs? Was that a +rustling dress in the corridor down there—the +ghost walk? Did she hear again the “step—put; +step—put” that had puzzled her already?</p> +<p>She did not like to go out into the hall and, perhaps, +meet one of the servants. So, after a time, +she went back to her book.</p> +<p>But the incident had given her a distaste for +reading. She kept listening for the return of the +ghostly step. So she undressed and went to bed. +Long afterward (or so it seemed to her, for she +had been asleep and slept soundly) she was aroused +again by the “step—put; step—put” past her +door.</p> +<p>Half asleep as she was, she jumped up and ran +to the door. When she opened it, it seemed as +though the sound was far down the main corridor—and +she thought she could see the entire length +of that passage. At least, there was a great window +at the far end, and the moonlight looked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +ghostily in. No shadow crossed this band of light, +and yet the rustle and step continued after she +reached her door and opened it.</p> +<p>Then——</p> +<p>Was that a door closed softly in the distance? +She could not be sure. After a minute or two one +thing she <i>was</i> sure of, however; she was getting +cold here in the draught, so she scurried back to +bed, covered her ears, and went to sleep again.</p> +<p>Helen got up the next morning with one well-defined +determination. She would put into practice +her uncle’s suggestion. She would buy one of +the cheap but showy dresses which shopgirls and +minor clerks had to buy to keep up appearances.</p> +<p>It was a very serious trouble to Helen that she +was not to buy and disport herself in pretty frocks +and hats. The desire to dress prettily and tastefully +is born in most girls—just as surely as is the +desire to breathe. And Helen was no exception.</p> +<p>She was obstinate, however, and could keep to +her purpose. Let the Starkweathers think she was +poor. Let them continue to think so until her +play was all over and she was ready to go home +again.</p> +<p>Her experience in the great city had told Helen +already that she could never be happy there. She +longed for the ranch, and for the Rose pony—even +for Big Hen Billings and Sing and the rag-head, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +Jo-Rab, and Manuel and Jose, and all the +good-hearted, honest “punchers” who loved her +and who would no more have hurt her feelings +than they would have made an infant cry.</p> +<p>She longed to have somebody call her +“Snuggy” and to smile upon her in good-fellowship. +As she walked the streets nobody appeared +to heed her. If they did, their expression of +countenance merely showed curiosity, or a scorn of +her clothes.</p> +<p>She was alone. She had never felt so much +alone when miles from any other human being, as +she sometimes had been on the range. What had +Dud said about this? That one could be very +much alone in the big city? Dud was right.</p> +<p>She wished that she had Dud Stone’s address. +She surely would have communicated with him +now, for he was probably back in New York by this +time.</p> +<p>However, there was just one person whom she +had met in New York who seemed to the girl from +Sunset Ranch as being “all right.” And when she +made up her mind to do as her uncle had directed +about the new frock, it was of this person Helen +naturally thought.</p> +<p>Sadie Goronsky! The girl who had shown herself +so friendly the night Helen had come to town. +She worked in a store where they sold ladies’ clothing. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +With no knowledge of the cheaper department +stores than those she had seen on the avenue, +it seemed quite the right thing to Helen’s mind for +her to search out Sadie and her store.</p> +<p>So, after an early breakfast taken in Mr. Lawdor’s +little room, and under the ministrations of +that kind old man, Helen left the house—by the +area door as requested—and started downtown.</p> +<p>She didn’t think of riding. Indeed, she had no +idea how far Madison Street was. But she remembered +the route the taxicab had taken uptown +that first evening, and she could not easily +lose her way.</p> +<p>And there was so much for the girl from the +ranch to see—so much that was new and curious to +her—that she did not mind the walk; although it +took her until almost noon, and she was quite tired +when she got to Chatham Square.</p> +<p>Here she timidly inquired of a policeman, who +kindly crossed the wide street with her and showed +her the way. On the southern side of Madison +Street she wandered, curiously alive to everything +about the district, and the people in it, that made +them both seem so strange to her.</p> +<p>“A dress, lady! A hat, lady!”</p> +<p>The buxom Jewish girls and women, who paraded +the street before the shops for which they +worked, would give her little peace. Yet it was all +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +done good-naturedly, and when she smiled and +shook her head they smiled, too, and let her pass.</p> +<p>Suddenly she saw the sturdy figure of Sadie +Goronsky right ahead. She had stopped a rather +over-dressed, loud-voiced woman with a child, and +Helen heard a good deal of the conversation while +she waited for Sadie (whose back was toward her) +to be free.</p> +<p>The “puller-in” and the possible customer +wrangled some few moments, both in Yiddish and +broken English; but Sadie finally carried her point—and +the child—into the store! The woman had +to follow her offspring, and once inside some of +the clerks got hold of her and Sadie could come +forth to lurk for another possible customer.</p> +<p>“Well, see who’s here!” exclaimed the Jewish +girl, catching sight of Helen. “What’s the matter, +Miss? Did they turn you out of your uncle’s +house upon Madison Avenyer? I never <i>did</i> expect +to see you again.”</p> +<p>“But I expected to see you again, Sadie; I told +you I’d come,” said Helen, simply.</p> +<p>“So it wasn’t just a josh; eh?”</p> +<p>“I always keep my word,” said the girl from +the West.</p> +<p>“Chee!” gasped Sadie. “We ain’t so partic’lar +around here. But I’m glad to see you, Miss, +just the same. Be-lieve me!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_A_NEW_WORLD' id='XIV_A_NEW_WORLD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>A NEW WORLD</h3> +</div> + +<p>The two girls stood on the sidewalk and let the +tide of busy humanity flow by unnoticed. Both +were healthy types of youth—one from the open +ranges of the Great West, the other from a land +far, far to the East.</p> +<p>Helen Morrell was brown, smiling, hopeful-looking; +but she certainly was not “up to date” +in dress and appearance. The black-eyed and +black-haired Russian girl was just as well developed +for her age and as rugged as she could +be; but in her cheap way her frock was the “very +latest thing,” her hair was dressed wonderfully, +and the air of “city smartness” about her made +the difference between her and Helen even more +marked.</p> +<p>“I never s’posed you’d come down here,” said +Sadie again.</p> +<p>“You asked was I turned out of my uncle’s +house,” responded Helen, seriously. “Well, it +does about amount to that.”</p> +<p>“Oh, no! Never!” cried the other girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span></p> +<p>“Let me tell you,” said Helen, whose heart was +so full that she longed for a confidant. Besides, +Sadie Goronsky would never know the Starkweather +family and their friends, and she felt +free to speak fully. So, without much reserve, she +related her experiences in her uncle’s house.</p> +<p>“Now, ain’t they the mean things!” ejaculated +Sadie, referring to the cousins. “And I suppose +they’re awful rich?”</p> +<p>“I presume so. The house is very large,” declared +Helen.</p> +<p>“And they’ve got loads and loads of dresses, +too?” demanded the working girl.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes. They are very fashionably dressed,” +Helen told her. “But see! I am going to have a +new dress myself. Uncle Starkweather gave me +ten dollars.”</p> +<p>“Chee!” ejaculated Sadie. “Wouldn’t it give +him a cramp in his pocket-book to part with so +much mazouma?”</p> +<p>“Mazouma?”</p> +<p>“That’s Hebrew for money,” laughed Sadie. +“But you <i>do</i> need a dress. Where did you get +that thing you’ve got on?”</p> +<p>“Out home,” replied Helen. “I see it isn’t +very fashionable.”</p> +<p>“Say! we got through sellin’ them things to +greenies two years back,” declared Sadie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span></p> +<p>“You haven’t been at work all that time; have +you?” gasped the girl from the ranch.</p> +<p>“Sure. I got my working papers four years +ago. You see, I looked a lot older than I really +was, and comin’ across from the old country all +us children changed our ages, so’t we could go +right to work when we come here without having +to spend all day in school. We had an uncle what +come over first, and he told us what to do.”</p> +<p>Helen listened to this with some wonder. She +felt perfectly safe with Sadie, and would have +trusted her, if it were necessary, with the money +she had hidden away in her closet at Uncle Starkweather’s; +yet the other girl looked upon the laws +of the land to which she had come for freedom +as merely harsh rules to be broken at one’s convenience.</p> +<p>“Of course,” said Sadie, “I didn’t work on the +sidewalk here at first. I worked back in Old +Yawcob’s shop—making changes in the garments +for fussy customers. I was always quick with my +needle.</p> +<p>“Then I helped the salesladies. But business +was slack, and people went right by our door, and +I jumped out one day and started to pull ’em in. +And I was better at it——</p> +<p>“Good-day, ma’am! Will you look at a beautiful +skirt—just the very latest style—we’ve only +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span> +got a few of them for samples?” She broke off +and left Helen to stand wondering while Sadie +chaffered with another woman, who had hesitated +a trifle as she passed the shop.</p> +<p>“Oh, no, ma’am! You was no greenie. I could +tell that at once. That’s why I spoke English to +you yet,” Sadie said, flattering the prospective +buyer, and smiling at her pleasantly. “If you will +just step in and see these skirts—or a two-piece +suit if you will?”</p> +<p>Helen observed her new friend with amazement. +Although she knew Sadie could be no older than +herself, she used the tact of long business experience +in handling the woman. And she got her into +the store, too!</p> +<p>“I wash my hands of ’em when they get inside,” +she said, laughing, and coming back to +Helen. “If Old Yawcob and his wife and his +salesladies can’t hold ’em, it isn’t <i>my</i> fault, you +understand. I’m about the youngest puller-in +there is along Madison Street—although that little +hunchback in front of the millinery shop yonder +<i>looks</i> younger.”</p> +<p>“But you don’t try to pull <i>me</i> in,” said Helen, +laughing. “And I’ve got ten whole dollars to +spend.”</p> +<p>“That’s right. But then, you see, you’re my +friend, Miss,” said Sadie. “I want to be sure you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +get your money’s worth. So I’m going with you +when you buy your dress—that is, if you’ll let +me.”</p> +<p>“Let you? Why, I’d dearly love to have you +advise me,” declared the Western girl. “And +don’t—<i>don’t</i>—call me ‘Miss.’ I’m Helen Morrell, +I tell you.”</p> +<p>“All right. If you say so. But, you know, you +<i>are</i> from Madison Avenyer just the same.”</p> +<p>“No. I’m from a great big ranch out West.”</p> +<p>“That’s like a farm—yes? I gotter cousin that +works on a farm over on Long Island. It’s +a big farm—it’s eighty acres. Is that farm you +come from as big as that?”</p> +<p>Helen nodded and did not smile at the girl’s +ignorance. “Very much bigger than eighty acres,” +she said. “You see, it has to be, for we raise +cattle instead of vegetables.”</p> +<p>“Well, I guess I don’t know much about it,” +admitted Sadie, frankly. “All I know is this city +and mostly this part of it down here on the East +Side. We all have to work so hard, you know. +But we’re getting along better than we did at first, +for more of us children can work.</p> +<p>“And now I want you should go home with me +for dinner, Helen—yes! It is my dinner hour +quick now; and then we will have time to pick you +out a bargain for a dress. Sure! You’ll come?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span></p> +<p>“If I won’t be imposing on you?” said Helen, +slowly.</p> +<p>“Huh! That’s all right. We’ll have enough +to eat <i>this</i> noon. And it ain’t so Jewish, either, +for father don’t come home till night. Father’s +awful religious; but I tell mommer she must be up-to-date +and have some ’Merican style about her. +I got her to leave off her wig yet. Catch <i>me</i> wearin’ +a wig when I’m married just to make me look +ugly. Not!”</p> +<p>All this rather puzzled Helen; but she was too +polite to ask questions. She knew vaguely that +Jewish people followed peculiar rabbinical laws +and customs; but what they were she had no idea. +However, she liked Sadie, and it mattered nothing +to Helen what the East Side girl’s faith or bringing +up had been. Sadie was kind, and friendly, +and was really the only person in all this big city +in whom the ranch girl could place the smallest +confidence.</p> +<p>Sadie ran into the store for a moment and soon +a big woman with an unctuous smile, a ruffled white +apron about as big as a postage stamp, and her +gray hair dressed as remarkably as Sadie’s own, +came out upon the sidewalk to take the young girl’s +place.</p> +<p>“Can’t I sell you somedings, lady?” she said +to the waiting Helen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span></p> +<p>“Now, don’t you go and run <i>my</i> customer in, +Ma Finkelstein!” cried Sadie, running out and +hugging the big woman. “Helen is my friend +and she’s going home to eat mit me.”</p> +<p>“<i>Ach!</i> you are already a United Stater yet,” +declared the big woman, laughing. “Undt the +friends you have it from Number Five Av’noo—yes?”</p> +<p>“You guessed it pretty near right,” cried Sadie. +“Helen lives on Madison Avenyer—and it ain’t +Madison Avenyer <i>uptown</i>, neither!”</p> +<p>She slipped her hand in Helen’s and bore her off +to the tenement house in which Helen had had her +first adventure in the great city.</p> +<p>“Come on up,” said Sadie, hospitably. “You +look tired, and I bet you walked clear down here?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I did,” admitted Helen.</p> +<p>“Some o’ mommer’s soup mit lentils will rest +you, I bet. It ain’t far yet—only two flights.”</p> +<p>Helen followed her cheerfully. But she wondered +if she was doing just right in letting this +friendly girl believe that she was just as poor as the +Starkweathers thought she was. Yet, on the other +hand, wouldn’t Sadie Goronsky have felt embarrassed +and have been afraid to be her friend, if +she knew that Helen Morrell was a very, very +wealthy girl and had at her command what would +seem to the Russian girl “untold wealth”? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span></p> +<p>“I’ll pay her for this,” thought Helen, with the +first feeling of real happiness she had experienced +since leaving the ranch. “She shall never be +sorry that she was kind to me.”</p> +<p>So she followed Sadie into the humble home +of the latter on the third floor of the tenement +with a smiling face and real warmth at her heart. +In Yiddish the downtown girl explained rapidly +her acquaintance with “the Gentile.” But, as +she had told Helen, Sadie’s mother had begun to +break away from some of the traditions of her +people. She was fast becoming “a United +Stater,” too.</p> +<p>She was a handsome, beaming woman, and she +was as generous-hearted as Sadie herself. The +rooms were a little steamy, for Mrs. Goronsky +had been doing the family wash that morning. +But the table was set neatly and the food that +came on was well prepared and—to Helen—much +more acceptable than the dainties she had been +having at Uncle Starkweather’s.</p> +<p>The younger children, who appeared for the +meal, were right from the street where they had +been playing, or from work in neighboring factories, +and were more than a little grimy. But +they were not clamorous and they ate with due +regard to “manners.”</p> +<p>“Ve haf nine, Mees,” said Mrs. Goronsky, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span> +proudly. “Undt they all are healt’y—<i>ach! so</i> +healt’y. It takes mooch to feed them yet.”</p> +<p>“Don’t tell about it, Mommer” cried Sadie. +“It aint stylish to have big fam’lies no more. +Don’t I tell you?”</p> +<p>“What about that Preesident we hadt—that +Teddy Sullivan—what said big fam’lies was a +good d’ing? Aindt that enough? Sure, Sarah, a +<i>Preesident</i> iss stylish.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Mommer!” screamed Sadie. “You +gotcher politics mixed. ‘Sullivan’ is the district +leader wot gifs popper a job; but ‘Teddy’ was +the President yet. You ain’t never goin’ to be real +American.”</p> +<p>But her mother only laughed. Indeed, the light-heartedness +of these poor people was a revelation +to Helen. She had supposed vaguely that very +poor people must be all the time serious, if not +actually in tears.</p> +<p>“Now, Helen, we’ll rush right back to the shop +and I’ll make Old Yawcob sell you a bargain. +She’s goin’ to get her new dress, Mommer. Ain’t +that fine?”</p> +<p>“Sure it iss,” declared the good woman. +“Undt you get her a bargain, Sarah.”</p> +<p>“<i>Don’t</i> call me ‘Sarah,’ Mommer!” cried the +daughter. “It ain’t stylish, I tell you. Call me +‘Sadie.’” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span></p> +<p>Her mother kissed her on both plump cheeks. +“What matters it, my little lamb?” she said, in +their own tongue. “Mother love makes <i>any</i> name +sweet.”</p> +<p>Helen did not, of course, understand these +words; but the caress, the look on their faces, and +the way Sadie returned her mother’s kiss made a +great lump come into the orphan girl’s throat. +She could hardly find her way in the dim hall to +the stairway, she was so blinded by tears.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV__STEP_PUT_STEP_PUT' id='XV__STEP_PUT_STEP_PUT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>“STEP—PUT; STEP—PUT”</h3> +</div> + +<p>An hour later Helen was dressed in a two-piece +suit, cut in what a chorus of salesladies, including +old Mrs. Finkelstein and Sadie herself, declared +were most “stylish” lines—and it did not +cost her ten dollars, either! Indeed, Sadie insisted +upon going with her to a neighboring millinery +store and purchasing a smart little hat for +$1.59, which set off the new suit very nicely.</p> +<p>“Sure, this old hat and suit of yours is wort’ +a lot more money, Helen,” declared the Russian +girl. “But they ain’t just the style, yuh see. And +style is everything to a girl. Why, nobody’d take +you for a greenie <i>now</i>!”</p> +<p>Helen was quite wise enough to know that she +had never been dressed so cheaply before; but she +recognized, too, the truth of her friend’s statement.</p> +<p>“Now, you take the dress home, and the hat. +Maybe you can find a cheap tailor who will make +over the dress. There’s enough material in it. +That’s an awful wide skirt, you know.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p> +<p>“But I couldn’t walk in a skirt as narrow as the +one you have on, Sadie.”</p> +<p>“Chee! if it was stylish,” confessed Sadie, “I’d +find a way to walk in a piece of stove-pipe!” and +she giggled.</p> +<p>So Helen left for uptown with her bundles, +wearing her new suit and hat. She took a Fourth +Avenue car and got out only a block from her +uncle’s house. As she hurried through the side +street and came to the Madison Avenue corner, +she came face-to-face with Flossie, coming home +from school with a pile of books under her arm.</p> +<p>Flossie looked quite startled when she saw her +cousin. Her eyes grew wide and she swept the +natty looking, if cheaply-dressed Western girl, +with an appreciative glance.</p> +<p>“Goodness me! What fine feathers!” she +cried. “You’ve been loading up with new clothes—eh? +Say, I like that dress.”</p> +<p>“Better than the caliker one?” asked Helen, +slily.</p> +<p>“You’re not so foolish as to believe I liked +<i>that</i>,” returned Flossie, coolly. “I told Belle and +Hortense that you weren’t as dense as they seemed +to think you.”</p> +<p>“Thanks!” said Helen, drily.</p> +<p>“But that dress is just in the mode,” repeated +Flossie, with some admiration. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></p> +<p>“Your father’s kindness enabled me to get it,” +said Helen, briefly.</p> +<p>“Humph!” said Flossie, frankly. “I guess +it didn’t cost you much, then.”</p> +<p>Helen did not reply to this comment; but as she +turned to go down to the basement door, Flossie +caught her by the arm.</p> +<p>“Don’t you do that!” she exclaimed. “Belle +can be pretty mean sometimes. You come in at the +front door with me.”</p> +<p>“No,” said Helen, smiling. “You come in at +the area door with <i>me</i>. It’s easier, anyway. +There’s a maid just opening it.”</p> +<p>So the two girls entered the house together. +They were late to lunch—indeed, Helen did not +wish any; but she did not care to explain why +she was not hungry.</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with you, Flossie?” demanded +Hortense. “We’ve done eating, Belle +and I. And if you wish your meals here, Helen, +please get here on time for them.”</p> +<p>“You mind your own business!” cried Flossie, +suddenly taking up the cudgels for her cousin as +well as herself. “You aren’t the boss, Hortense! +I got kept after school, anyway. And cook can +make something hot for me and Helen.”</p> +<p>“You <i>need</i> to be kept after school—from the +kind of English you use,” sniffed her sister. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p> +<p>“I don’t care! I hate the old studies!” declared +Flossie, slamming her books down upon the +table. “I don’t see why I have to go to school at +all. I’m going to ask Pa to take me out. I need +a rest.”</p> +<p>Which was very likely true, for Miss Flossie +was out almost every night to some party, or to +the theater, or at some place which kept her up +very late. She had no time for study, and therefore +was behind in all her classes. That day she +had been censured for it at school—and when they +took a girl to task for falling behind in studies +at <i>that</i> school, she was very far behind, indeed!</p> +<p>Flossie grumbled about her hard lot all through +luncheon. Helen kept her company; then, when +it was over, she slipped up to her own room with +her bundles. Both Hortense and Belle had taken +a good look at her, however, and they plainly approved +of her appearance.</p> +<p>“She’s not such a dowdy as she seemed,” +whispered Hortense to the oldest sister.</p> +<p>“No,” admitted Belle. “But that’s an awful +cheap dress she bought.”</p> +<p>“I guess she didn’t have much to spend,” +laughed Hortense. “Pa wasn’t likely to be very +liberal. It puzzles me why he should have kept +her here at all.”</p> +<p>“He says it is his duty,” scoffed Belle. “Now, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span> +you know Pa! He never was so worried about +duty before; was he?”</p> +<p>These girls, brought up as they were, steeped +in selfishness and seeing their father likewise so +selfish, had no respect for their parent. Nor +could this be wondered at.</p> +<p>Going up to her room that afternoon Helen +met Mrs. Olstrom coming down. The housekeeper +started when she saw the young girl, and +drew back. But Helen had already seen the great +tray of dishes the housekeeper carried. And she +wondered.</p> +<p>Who took their meals up on this top floor? +The maids who slept here were all accounted for. +She had seen them about the house. And Gregson, +too. Of course Mr. Lawdor and Mrs. Olstrom +had their own rooms below.</p> +<p>Then who could it be who was being served on +this upper floor? Helen was more than a little +curious. The sounds she had heard the night before +dove-tailed in her mind with these soiled +dishes on the tray.</p> +<p>She was almost tempted to walk through the +long corridor in which she thought she had heard +the scurrying footsteps pass the night before. Yet, +suppose she was caught by Mrs. Olstrom—or by +anybody else—peering about the house?</p> +<p>“<i>That</i> wouldn’t be very nice,” mused the girl. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>“Because these people think I am rude and untaught, +is no reason why I should display any +<i>real</i> rudeness.”</p> +<p>She was very curious, however; the thought of +the tray-load of dishes remained in her mind all +day.</p> +<p>At dinner that night even Mr. Starkweather +gave Helen a glance of approval when she appeared +in her new frock.</p> +<p>“Ahem!” he said. “I see you have taken my +advice, Helen. We none of us can afford to forget +what is due to custom. You are much more +presentable.”</p> +<p>“Thank you, Uncle Starkweather,” replied +Helen, demurely. “But out our way we say: +‘Fine feathers don’t make fine birds.’”</p> +<p>“You needn’t fret,” giggled Flossie. “Your +feather’s aren’t a bit too fine.”</p> +<p>But Flossie’s eyes were red, and she plainly +had been crying.</p> +<p>“I <i>hate</i> the old books!” she said, suddenly. +“Pa, why do I have to go to school any more?”</p> +<p>“Because I am determined you shall, young +lady,” said Mr. Starkweather, firmly. “We all +have to learn.”</p> +<p>“Hortense doesn’t go.”</p> +<p>“But you are not Hortense’s age,” returned her +father, coolly. “Remember that. And I must +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +have better reports of your conduct in school than +have reached me lately,” he added.</p> +<p>Flossie sulked over the rest of her dinner. +Helen, going up slowly to her room later, saw the +door of her youngest cousin’s room open, and +glancing in, beheld Flossie with her head on her +book, crying hard.</p> +<p>Each of these girls had a beautiful room of her +own. Flossie’s was decorated in pink, with chintz +hangings, a lovely bed, bookshelves, a desk of inlaid +wood, and everything to delight the eye and +taste of any girl. Beside the common room Helen +occupied, this of Flossie’s was a fairy palace.</p> +<p>But Helen was naturally tender-hearted. She +could not bear to see the younger girl crying. She +ventured to step inside the door and whisper:</p> +<p>“Flossie?”</p> +<p>Up came the other’s head, her face flushed and +wet and her brow a-scowl.</p> +<p>“What do <i>you</i> want?” she demanded, quickly.</p> +<p>“Nothing. Unless I can help you. And if so, +<i>that</i> is what I want,” said the ranch girl, softly.</p> +<p>“Goodness me! <i>You</i> can’t help me with algebra. +What do I want to know higher mathematics +for? I’ll never have use for such knowledge.”</p> +<p>“I don’t suppose we can ever learn <i>too</i> much,” +said Helen, quietly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span></p> +<p>“Huh! Lots you know about it. You never +were driven to school against your will.”</p> +<p>“No. Whenever I got a chance to go I was +glad.”</p> +<p>“Maybe I’d be glad, too, if I lived on a ranch,” +returned Flossie, scornfully.</p> +<p>Helen came nearer to the desk and sat down +beside her.</p> +<p>“You don’t look a bit pretty with your eyes all +red and hot. Crying isn’t going to help,” she +said, smiling.</p> +<p>“I suppose not,” grumbled Flossie, ungrateful +of tone.</p> +<p>“Come, let me get some water and cologne and +bathe your face.” Helen jumped up and went to +the tiny bathroom. “Now, I’ll play maid for you, +Flossie.”</p> +<p>“Oh, all right,” said the younger girl. “I +suppose, as you say, crying isn’t going to help.”</p> +<p>“Not at all. No amount of tears will solve a +problem in algebra. And you let me see the questions. +You see,” added Helen, slowly, beginning +to bathe her cousin’s forehead and swollen +eyes, “we once had a very fine school-teacher at +the ranch. He was a college professor. But he +had weak lungs and he came out there to Montana +to rest.”</p> +<p>“That’s good!” murmured Flossie, meaning +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +bathing process, for she was not listening much +to Helen’s remarks.</p> +<p>“I knew it would make you feel better. But +now, let me see these algebra problems. I took +it up a little when—when Professor Payton was +at the ranch.”</p> +<p>“You didn’t!” cried Flossie, in wonder.</p> +<p>“Let me see them,” pursued her cousin, nodding.</p> +<p>She had told the truth—as far as she went. +After Professor Payton had left the ranch and +Helen had gone to Denver to school, she had +showed a marked taste for mathematics and had +been allowed to go far ahead of her fellow-pupils +in that study.</p> +<p>Now, at a glance, she saw what was the matter +with Flossie’s attempts to solve the problems. +She slipped into a seat beside the younger girl +again and, in a few minutes, showed Flossie just +how to solve them.</p> +<p>“Why, Helen! I didn’t suppose you knew so +much,” said Flossie, in surprise.</p> +<p>“You see, <i>that</i> is something I had a chance to +learn between times—when I wasn’t roping cows +or breaking ponies,” said Helen, drily.</p> +<p>“Humph! I don’t believe you did either of +those vulgar things,” declared Flossie, suddenly.</p> +<p>“You are mistaken. I do them both, and do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +them well,” returned Helen, gravely. “But they +are <i>not</i> vulgar. No more vulgar than your sister +Belle’s golf. It is outdoor exercise, and living outdoors +as much as one can is a sort of religion in the +West.”</p> +<p>“Well,” said Flossie, who had recovered her +breath now. “I don’t care what you do outdoors. +You can do algebra in the house! And I’m real +thankful to you, Cousin Helen.”</p> +<p>“You are welcome, Flossie,” returned the other, +gravely; but then she went her way to her own +room at the top of the house. Flossie did not +ask her to remain after she had done all she could +for her.</p> +<p>But Helen had found plenty of reading matter +in the house. Her cousins and uncle might ignore +her as they pleased. With a good book in her +hand she could forget all her troubles.</p> +<p>Now she slipped into her kimono, propped herself +up in bed, turned the gas-jet high, and lost +herself in the adventures of her favorite heroine. +The little clock on the mantel ticked on unheeded. +The house grew still. The maids came up to bed +chattering. But still Helen read on.</p> +<p>She had forgotten the sounds she had heard +in the old house at night. Mrs. Olstrom had mentioned +that there were “queer stories” about the +Starkweather mansion. But Helen would not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +have thought of them at this time, had something +not rattled her doorknob and startled her.</p> +<p>“Somebody wants to come in,” was the girl’s +first thought, and she hopped out of bed and ran +to unlock it.</p> +<p>Then she halted, with her hand upon the knob. +A sound outside had arrested her. But it was not +the sound of somebody trying the latch.</p> +<p>Instead she plainly heard the mysterious “step—put; +step—put” again. Was it descending the +stairs? It seemed to grow fainter as she listened.</p> +<p>At length the girl—somewhat shaken—reached +for the key of her door again, and turned it. Then +she opened it and peered out.</p> +<p>The corridor was faintly illuminated. The +stairway itself was quite dark, for there was no +light in the short passage below called “the ghost-walk.”</p> +<p>The girl, in her slippers, crept to the head of the +flight. There she could hear the steady, ghostly +footstep from below. No other sound within +the great mansion reached her ears. It <i>was</i> queer.</p> +<p>To and fro the odd step went. It apparently +drew nearer, then receded—again and again.</p> +<p>Helen could not see any of the corridor from +the top of the flight. So she began to creep down, +determined to know for sure if there really was +something or somebody there. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span></p> +<p>Nor was she entirely unafraid now. The mysterious +sounds had got upon her nerves. Whether +they were supernatural, or natural, she was determined +to solve the mystery here and now.</p> +<p>Half-way down the stair she halted. The sound +of the ghostly step was at the far end of the hall. +But it would now return, and the girl could see +(her eyes having become used to the dim light) +more than half of the passage.</p> +<p>There was the usual rustling sound at the end +of the passage. Then the steady “step—put” approached.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_FORGOTTEN' id='XVI_FORGOTTEN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>FORGOTTEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>From the stair-well some little light streamed +up into the darkness of the ghost-walk. And into +this dim radiance came a little old lady—her old-fashioned +crimped hair an aureole of beautiful +gray—leaning lightly on an ebony crutch, which +in turn tapped the floor in accompaniment to her +clicking step—</p> +<p>“Step—put; step—put; step—put.”</p> +<p>Then she was out of the range of Helen’s +vision again. But she turned and came back—her +silken skirts rustling, her crutch tapping in perfect +time.</p> +<p>This was no ghost. Although slender—ethereal—almost +bird-like in her motions—the little old +lady was very human indeed. She had a pink +flush in her cheeks, and her skin was as soft as +velvet. Of course there were wrinkles; but they +were beautiful wrinkles, Helen thought.</p> +<p>She wore black half-mitts of lace, and her old-fashioned +gown was of delightfully soft, yet rich +silk. The silk was brown—not many old ladies +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +could have worn that shade of brown and found it +becoming. Her eyes were bright—the unseen girl +saw them sparkle as she turned her head, in that +bird-like manner, from side to side.</p> +<p>She was a dear, doll-like old lady! Helen +longed to hurry down the remaining steps and take +her in her arms.</p> +<p>But, instead, she crept softly back to the head +of the stairs, and slipped into her own room +again. <i>This</i> was the mystery of the Starkweather +mansion. The nightly exercise of this mysterious +old lady was the foundation for the “ghost-walk.” +The maids of the household feared the +supernatural; therefore they easily found a legend +to explain the rustling step of the old lady with the +crutch.</p> +<p>And all day long the old lady kept to her room. +That room must be in the front of the house on +this upper floor—shut away, it was likely, from +the knowledge of most of the servants.</p> +<p>Mrs. Olstrom, of course, knew about the old +lady—who she was—what she was. It was the +housekeeper who looked after the simple wants of +the mysterious occupant of the Starkweather mansion.</p> +<p>Helen wondered if Mr. Lawdor, the old butler, +knew about the mystery? And did the Starkweathers +themselves know? +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span></p> +<p>The girl from the ranch was too excited and +curious to go to sleep now. She had to remain +right by her door, opened on a crack, and learn +what would happen next.</p> +<p>For an hour at least she heard the steady stepping +of the old lady. Then the crutch rapped out +an accompaniment to her coming upstairs. She +was humming softly to herself, too. Helen, +crouched behind the door, distinguished the sweet, +cracked voice humming a fragment of the old +lullaby:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Rock-a-by, baby, on the tree-top,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Down will come baby——”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Thus humming, and the crutch tapping—a mere +whisper of sound—the old lady rustled by Helen’s +door, on into the long corridor, and disappeared +through some door, which closed behind her and +smothered all further sound.</p> +<p>Helen went to bed; but she could not sleep—not +at first. The mystery of the little old lady and +her ghostly walk kept her eyes wide open and +her brain afire for hours.</p> +<p>She asked question after question into the dark +of the night, and only imagination answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +Some of the answers were fairly reasonable; others +were as impossible as the story of Jack the Giant +Killer.</p> +<p>Finally, however, Helen dropped asleep. She +awoke at her usual hour—daybreak—and her +eager mind began again asking questions about the +mystery. She went down in her outdoor clothes +for a morning walk, with the little old lady uppermost +in her thoughts.</p> +<p>As usual, Mr. Lawdor was on the lookout for +her. The shaky old man loved to have her that +few minutes in his room in the early morning. +Although he always presided over the dinner, with +Gregson under him, the old butler seldom seemed +to speak, or be spoken to. Helen understood that, +like Mrs. Olstrom, Lawdor was a relic of the late +owner—Mr. Starkweather’s great-uncle’s—household.</p> +<p>Cornelius Starkweather had been a bachelor. +The mansion had descended to him from a member +of the family who had been a family man. But +that family had died young—wife and all—and +the master had handed the old homestead over to +Mr. Cornelius and had gone traveling himself—to +die in a foreign land.</p> +<p>Once Helen had heard Lawdor murmur something +about “Mr. Cornelius” and she had picked +up the remainder of her information from things +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span> +she had heard Mr. Starkweather and the girls +say.</p> +<p>Now the old butler met her with an ingratiating +smile and begged her to have something beside +her customary coffee and roll.</p> +<p>“I have a lovely steak, Miss. The butcher +remembers me once in a while, and he knows I +am fond of a bit of tender beef. My teeth are +not what they were once, you know, Miss.”</p> +<p>“But why should I eat your nice steak?” demanded +Helen, laughing at him. “My teeth are +good for what the boys on the range call ‘bootleg.’ +That’s steak cut right next to the hoof!”</p> +<p>“Ah, but, Miss! There is so much more than I +could possibly eat,” he urged.</p> +<p>He had already turned the electricity into his +grill. The ruddy steak—salted, peppered, with +tiny flakes of garlic upon it—he brought from his +own little icebox. The appetizing odor of the +meat sharpened Helen’s appetite even as she sipped +the first of her coffee.</p> +<p>“I’ll just <i>have</i> to eat some, I expect, Mr. Lawdor,” +she said. Then she had a sudden thought, +and added: “Or perhaps you’d like to save this +tidbit for the little old lady in the attic?”</p> +<p>Mr. Lawdor turned—not suddenly; he never +did anything with suddenness; but it was plain she +had startled him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p> +<p>“Bless me, Miss—bless me—bless me——”</p> +<p>He trailed off in his usual shaky way; but his +lips were white and he stared at Helen like an owl +for a full minute. Then he added:</p> +<p>“Is there a lady in the attic, Miss?” And he +said it in his most polite way.</p> +<p>“Of course there is, Mr. Lawdor; and you +know it. Who is she? I am only curious.”</p> +<p>“I—I hear the maids talking about a ghost, +Miss—foolish things——”</p> +<p>“And I’m not foolish, Mr. Lawdor,” said the +Western girl, laughing shortly. “Not that way, +at least. I heard her; last night I saw her. Next +time I’m going to speak to her—Unless it isn’t +allowed.”</p> +<p>“It—it isn’t allowed, Miss,” said Lawdor, +speaking softly, and with a glance at the closed +door of the room.</p> +<p>“Nobody has forbidden <i>me</i> to speak to her,” +declared Helen, boldly. “And I’m curious—mighty +curious, Mr. Lawdor. Surely she is a nice +old lady—there is nothing the matter with her?”</p> +<p>The butler touched his forehead with a shaking +finger. “A little wrong there, Miss,” he whispered. +“But Mary Boyle is as innocent and harmless +as a baby herself.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you tell me about her—who she is—why +she lives up there—and all?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span></p> +<p>“Not here, Miss.”</p> +<p>“Why not?” demanded Helen, boldly.</p> +<p>“It might offend Mr. Starkweather, Miss. Not +that he has anything to do with Mary Boyle. He +had to take the old house with her in it.”</p> +<p>“What <i>do</i> you mean, Lawdor?” gasped Helen, +growing more and more amazed and—naturally—more +and more curious.</p> +<p>The butler flopped the steak suddenly upon the +sizzling hot plate and in another moment the delicious +bit was before her. The old man served +her as expertly as ever, but his face was working +strangely.</p> +<p>“I couldn’t tell you here, Miss. Walls have +ears, they say,” he whispered. “But if you’ll +be on the first bench beyond the Sixth Avenue +entrance to Central Park at ten o’clock this morning, +I will meet you there.</p> +<p>“Yes, Miss—the rolls. Some more butter, +Miss? I hope the coffee is to your taste, Miss?”</p> +<p>“It is all very delicious, Lawdor,” said Helen, +rather weakly, and feeling somewhat confused. +“I will surely be there. I shall not need to come +back for the regular breakfast after having this +nice bit.”</p> +<p>Helen attracted much less attention upon her +usual early morning walk this time. She was +dressed in the mode, if cheaply, and she was not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +so self-conscious. But, in addition, she thought +but little of herself or her own appearance or +troubles while she walked briskly uptown.</p> +<p>It was of the little old woman, and her mystery, +and the butler’s words that she thought. She +strode along to the park, and walked west until +she reached the bridle-path. She had found this +before, and came to see the riders as they cantered +by.</p> +<p>How Helen longed to put on her riding clothes +and get astride a lively mount and gallop up the +park-way! But she feared that, in doing so, she +might betray to her uncle or the girls the fact that +she was not the “pauper cowgirl” they thought +her to be.</p> +<p>She found a seat overlooking the path, at last, +and rested for a while; but her mind was not upon +the riders. Before ten o’clock she had walked +back south, found the entrance to the park opposite +Sixth Avenue, and sat down upon the bench +specified by the old butler. At the stroke of the +hour the old man appeared.</p> +<p>“You could not have walked all this way, Lawdor?” +said the girl, smiling upon him. “You +are not at all winded.”</p> +<p>“No, Miss. I took the car. I am not up to +such walks as you can take,” and he shook his head, +mumbling: “Oh, no, no, no, no——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>“And now, what can you tell me, sir?” she said, +breaking in upon his dribbling speech. “I am just +as curious as I can be. That dear little old lady! +Why is she in uncle’s house?”</p> +<p>“Ah, Miss! I fancy she will not be there for +long, but she was an encumbrance upon it when +Mr. Willets Starkweather came with his family +to occupy it.”</p> +<p>“What <i>do</i> you mean?” cried the girl.</p> +<p>“Mary Boyle served in the Starkweather family +long, long ago. Before I came to valet for Mr. +Cornelius, Mary Boyle had her own room and was +a fixture in the house. Mr. Cornelius took her +more—more philosophically, as you might say, +Miss. My present master and his daughters look +upon poor Mary Boyle as a nuisance. They have +to allow her to remain. She is a life charge upon +the estate—that, indeed, was fixed before Mr. +Cornelius’s time. But the present family are +ashamed of her. Perhaps I ought not to say it, +but it is true. They have relegated her to a suite +upon the top floor, and other people have quite +forgotten Mary Boyle—yes, oh, yes, indeed! +Quite forgotten her—quite forgotten her——”</p> +<p>Then, with the aid of some questioning, Helen +heard the whole sad story of Mary Boyle, who was +a nurse girl in the family of the older generation of +Starkweathers. It was in her arms the last baby +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +of the family had panted his weakly little life out. +She, too, had watched by the bed of the lady of +the mansion, who had borne these unfortunate +children only to see them die.</p> +<p>And Mary Boyle was one of that race who often +lose their own identity in the families they serve. +She had loved the lost babies as though they had +been of her own flesh. She had walked the little +passage at the back of the house (out of which +had opened the nursery in those days) so many, +many nights with one or the other of her fretful +charges, that by and by she thought, at night, +that she had them yet to soothe.</p> +<p>Mary Boyle, the weak-minded yet harmless ex-nurse, +had been cherished by her old master. And +in his will he had left her to the care of Mr. +Cornelius, the heir. In turn she had been left a +life interest in the mansion—to the extent of shelter +and food and proper clothes—when Willets +Starkweather became proprietor.</p> +<p>He could not get rid of the old lady. But, +when he refurnished the house and made it over, +he had banished Mary Boyle to the attic rooms. +The girls were ashamed of her. She sometimes +talked loudly if company was about. And always +of the children she had once attended. She spoke +of them as though they were still in her care, and +told how she had walked the hall with one, or the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +other, of her dead and gone treasures the very +night before!</p> +<p>For it was found necessary to allow Mary +Boyle to have the freedom of that short corridor +on the chamber floor late at night. Otherwise she +would not remain secluded in her own rooms at the +top of the house during the daytime.</p> +<p>As the lower servants came and went, finally +only Mrs. Olstrom and Mr. Lawdor knew about +the old lady, save the family. And Mr. Starkweather +impressed it upon the minds of both these +employés that he did not wish the old lady discussed +below stairs.</p> +<p>So the story had risen that the house was +haunted. The legend of the “ghost walk” was +established. And Mary Boyle lived out her lonely +life, with nobody to speak to save the housekeeper, +who saw her daily; Mr. Lawdor, who climbed to +her rooms perhaps once each week, and Mr. +Starkweather himself, who saw and reported upon +her case to his fellow trustees each month.</p> +<p>It was, to Helen, an unpleasant story. It threw +a light on the characters of her uncle and cousins +which did not enhance her admiration of them, to +say the least. She had found them unkind, purse-proud +heretofore; but to her generous soul their +treatment of the little old woman, who must be +but a small charge upon the estate, seemed far +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +more blameworthy than their treatment of herself.</p> +<p>The story of the old butler made Helen quiver +with indignation. It was like keeping the old lady +in jail—this shutting her away into the attic of the +great house. The Western girl went back to +Madison Avenue (she walked, but the old butler +rode) with a thought in her mind that she was not +quite sure was a wise one. Yet she had nobody +to discuss her idea with—nobody whom she wished +to take into her confidence.</p> +<p>There were two lonely and neglected people in +that fine mansion. She, herself, was one. The +old nurse, Mary Boyle, was the other. And Helen +felt a strong desire to see and talk with her +fellow-sufferer.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_A_DISTINCT_SHOCK' id='XVII_A_DISTINCT_SHOCK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>A DISTINCT SHOCK</h3> +</div> + +<p>That evening when Mr. Starkweather came +home, he handed Helen a sealed letter.</p> +<p>“I have ascertained,” the gentleman said, in his +most pompous way, “that Mr. Fenwick Grimes +is in town. He has recently returned from a tour +of the West, where he has several mining interests. +You will find his address on that envelope. Give +the letter to him. It will serve to introduce you.”</p> +<p>He watched her closely while he said this, but +did not appear to do so. Helen thanked him with +some warmth.</p> +<p>“This is very good of you, Uncle Starkweather—especially +when I know you do not approve.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! Sleeping dogs are much better left +alone. To stir a puddle is only to agitate the +mud. This old business would much better be forgotten. +You know all that there is to be known +about the unfortunate affair, I am quite sure.”</p> +<p>“I cannot believe that, Uncle,” Helen replied. +“Had you seen how my dear father worried about +it when he was dying——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span></p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather could look at her no +longer—not even askance. He shook his head +and murmured some commonplace, sympathetic +phrase. But it did not seem genuine to his +niece.</p> +<p>She knew very well that Mr. Starkweather had +no real sympathy for her; nor did he care a particle +about her father’s death. But she tucked the +letter into her pocket and went her way.</p> +<p>As she passed through the upstairs corridor +Flossie was entering one of the drawing-rooms, +and she caught her cousin by the hand. Flossie +had been distinctly nicer to Helen—in private—since +the latter had helped her with the algebra +problems.</p> +<p>“Come on in, Helen. Belle’s just pouring tea. +Don’t you want some?” said the youngest Starkweather +girl.</p> +<p>It was in Helen’s mind to excuse herself. Yet +she was naturally too kindly to refuse to accept an +advance like this. And she, like Flossie, had no +idea that there was anybody in the drawing-room +save Belle and Hortense.</p> +<p>In they marched—and there were three young +ladies—friends of Belle—sipping tea and eating +macaroons by the log fire, for the evening was +drawing in cold.</p> +<p>“Goodness me!” ejaculated Belle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span></p> +<p>“Well, I never!” gasped Hortense. “Have +<i>you</i> got to butt in, Floss?”</p> +<p>“We want some tea, too,” said the younger +girl, boldly, angered by her sisters’ manner.</p> +<p>“You’d better have it in the nursery,” yawned +Hortense. “This is no place for kids in the +bread-and-butter stage of growth.”</p> +<p>“Oh, is that so?” cried Flossie. “Helen and I +are not kids—distinctly <i>not</i>! I hope I know my +way about a bit—and as for Helen,” she added, +with a wicked grin, knowing that the speech would +annoy her sisters, “Helen can shoot, and rope +steers, and break ponies to saddle, and all that. +She told me so the other evening. Isn’t that +right, Cousin Helen?”</p> +<p>“Why, your cousin must be quite a wonderful +girl,” said Miss Van Ramsden, one of the visitors, +to Flossie. “Introduce me; won’t you, Flossie?”</p> +<p>Belle was furious; and Hortense would have +been, too, only she was too languid to feel such +an emotion. Flossie proceeded to introduce +Helen to the three visitors—all of whom chanced +to be young ladies whom Belle was striving her +best to cultivate.</p> +<p>And before Flossie and Helen had swallowed +their tea, which Belle gave them ungraciously, +Gregson announced a bevy of other girls, until +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +quite a dozen gaily dressed and chattering misses +were gathered before the fire.</p> +<p>At first Helen had merely bowed to the girls +to whom she was introduced. She had meant to +drink her tea quietly and excuse herself. She did +not wish now to display a rude manner before +Belle’s guests; but her oldest cousin seemed determined +to rouse animosity in her soul.</p> +<p>“Yes,” she said, “Helen is paying us a little +visit—a very brief one. She is not at all used +to our ways. In fact, Indian squaws and what-do-you +call-’ems—Greasers—are about all the people +she sees out her way.”</p> +<p>“Is that so?” cried Miss Van Ramsden. “It +must be a perfectly charming country. Come and +sit down by me, Miss Morrell, and tell me about +it.”</p> +<p>Indeed, at the moment, there was only one +vacant chair handy, and that was beside Miss Van +Ramsden. So Helen took it and immediately the +young lady began to ask questions about Montana +and the life Helen had lived there.</p> +<p>Really, the young society woman was not offensive; +the questions were kindly meant. But Helen +saw that Belle was furious and she began to take +a wicked delight in expatiating upon her home and +her own outdoor accomplishments.</p> +<p>When she told Miss Van Ramsden how she and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +her cowboy friends rode after jack-rabbits and +roped them—if they could!—and shot antelope +from the saddle, and that the boys sometimes attacked +a mountain lion with nothing but their +lariats, Miss Van Ramsden burst out with:</p> +<p>“Why, that’s perfectly grand! What fun you +must have! Do hear her, girls! Why, what we +do is tame and insipid beside things that happen +out there in Montana every day.”</p> +<p>“Oh, don’t bother about her, May!” cried +Belle. “Come on and let’s plan what we’ll do +Saturday if we go to the Nassau links.”</p> +<p>“Listen here!” cried Miss Van Ramsden, +eagerly. “Golf can wait. We can always golf. +But your cousin tells the very bulliest stories. Go +on, Miss Morrell. Tell some more.”</p> +<p>“Do, do!” begged some of the other girls, +drawing their chairs nearer.</p> +<p>Helen was not a little embarrassed. She would +have been glad to withdraw from the party. But +then she saw the looks exchanged between Belle +and Hortense, and they fathered a wicked desire +in the Western girl’s heart to give her proud +cousins just what they were looking for.</p> +<p>She began, almost unconsciously, to stretch her +legs out in a mannish style, and drop into the drawl +of the range.</p> +<p>“Coyote running is about as good fun as we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span> +have,” she told Miss Van Ramsden in answer to +a question. “Yes, they’re cowardly critters; but +they can run like a streak o’ greased lightning—yes-sir-ree-bob!” +Then she began to laugh a little. +“I remember once when I was a kid, that +I got fooled about coyotes.”</p> +<p>“I’d like to know what you are now,” drawled +Hortense, trying to draw attention from her cousin, +who was becoming altogether too popular. +“And you should know that children are better +seen than heard.”</p> +<p>“Let’s see,” said Helen, quickly, “our birthdays +are in the same month; aren’t they, ’Tense? +I believe mother used to tell me so.”</p> +<p>“Oh, never mind your birthdays,” urged Miss +Van Ramsden, while some of the other girls +smiled at the repartee. “Let’s hear about your +adventure with the coyote, Miss Morrell.”</p> +<p>“Why, ye see,” said Helen, “it wasn’t much. +I was just a kid, as I say—mebbe ten year old. +Dad had given me a light rifle—just a twenty-two, +you know—to learn to shoot with. And Big Hen +Billings——”</p> +<p>“Doesn’t that sound just like those dear Western +plays?” gasped one young lady. “You know—‘The +Squaw Man of the Golden West,’ or +‘Missouri,’ or——”</p> +<p>“Hold on! You’re getting your titles mixed, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span> +Lettie,” cried Miss Van Ramsden. “Do let Miss +Morrell tell it.”</p> +<p>“To give that child the center of the stage!” +snapped Hortense, to Belle.</p> +<p>“I could shake Flossie for bringing her in +here,” returned the oldest Starkweather girl, quite +as angrily.</p> +<p>“Tell us about your friend, Big Hen Billings,” +drawled another visitor. “He <i>does</i> sound so romantic!”</p> +<p>Helen almost giggled. To consider the giant +foreman of Sunset Ranch a romantic type was certainly +“going some.” She had the wicked thought +that she would have given a large sum of money, +right then and there, to have had Big Hen announced +by Gregson and ushered into the presence +of this group of city girls.</p> +<p>“Well,” continued Helen, thus urged, “father +had given me a little rifle and Big Hen gave me a +maverick——”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” demanded Flossie.</p> +<p>“Well, in this case,” explained Helen, “it was +an orphaned calf. Sometimes they’re strays that +haven’t been branded. But in this case a bear had +killed the calf’s mother in a <i>coulée</i>. She had tried +to fight Mr. Bear, of course, or he never would +have killed her at that time of year. Bears aren’t +dangerous unless they’re hungry.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>“My! but they look dangerous enough—at the +zoo,” observed Flossie.</p> +<p>“I tell ye,” said Helen, reflectively, “that was +a pretty calf. And I was little, and I hated to hear +them blat when the boys burned them——”</p> +<p>“Burned them! Burned little calves! How +cruel! What for?”</p> +<p>These were some of the excited comments. +And in spite of Belle and Hortense, most of the +visitors were now interested in the Western girl’s +narration.</p> +<p>“They have to brand ’em, you see,” explained +Helen. “Otherwise we never could pick our cattle +out from other herds at the round-up. You +see, on the ranges—even the fenced ranges—cattle +from several ranches often get mixed up. Our +brand is the Link-A. Our ranch was known, in +the old days, as the ‘Link-A.’ It’s only late years +that we got to calling it Sunset Ranch.”</p> +<p>“Sunset Ranch!” cried Miss Van Ramsden, +quickly. “Haven’t I heard something about <i>that</i> +ranch? Isn’t it one of the big, big cattle and horse-breeding +ranches?”</p> +<p>“Yes, ma’am,” said Helen, slowly, fearing +that she had unwittingly got into a blind alley of +conversation.</p> +<p>“And your father owns <i>that</i> ranch?” cried +Miss Van Ramsden. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p> +<p>“My—my father is dead,” said Helen. “I am +an orphan.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear me! I am so sorry,” murmured the +wealthy young lady.</p> +<p>But here Belle broke in, rather scornfully:</p> +<p>“The child means that her father worked on +that ranch. She has lived there all her life. Quite +a rude place, I fawncy.”</p> +<p>Helen’s eyes snapped. “Yes. He worked +there,” she admitted, which was true enough, for +nobody could honestly have called Prince Morrell +a sluggard.</p> +<p>“He was—what you call it—a cowpuncher, I +believe,” whispered Belle, in an aside.</p> +<p>If Helen heard she made no sign, but went on +with her story.</p> +<p>“You see, it was <i>such</i> a pretty calf,” she repeated. +“It had big blue eyes at first—calves +often do. And it was all sleek and brown, and +it played so cunning. Of course, its mother being +dead, I had a lot of trouble with it at first. I +brought it up by hand.</p> +<p>“And I tied a broad pink ribbon around its +neck, with a big bow at the back. When it slipped +around under its neck Bozie would somehow +get the end of the ribbon in its mouth, and +chew, and chew on it till it was nothing but +pulp.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p> +<p>She laughed reminiscently, and the others, +watching her pretty face in the firelight, smiled +too.</p> +<p>“So you called it Bozie?” asked Miss Van +Ramsden.</p> +<p>“Yes. And it followed me everywhere. If I +went out to try and shoot plover or whistlers +with my little rifle, there was Bozie tagging after +me. So, you see when it came calf-branding time, +I hid Bozie.”</p> +<p>“You hid it? How?” demanded Flossie. +“Seems to me a calf would be a big thing to +hide.”</p> +<p>“I didn’t hide it under my bed,” laughed Helen. +“No, sir! I took it out to a far distant <i>coulée</i> +where I used to go to play—a long way from the +bunk-house—and I hitched Bozie to a stub of a +tree where there was nice, short, sweet grass for +him.</p> +<p>“I hitched him in the morning, for the branding +fires were going to be built right after dinner. +But I had to show up at dinner—sure. The whole +gang would have been out hunting me if I +didn’t report for meals.”</p> +<p>“Yes. I presume you ran perfectly wild,” +sighed Hortense, trying to look as though she +were sorry for this half-savage little cousin from +the “wild and woolly.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></p> +<p>“Oh, very wild indeed,” drawled Helen. +“And after dinner I raced back to the <i>coulée</i> to +see that Bozie was all right. I took my rifle along +so the boys would think I’d gone hunting and +wouldn’t tell father.</p> +<p>“I’d heard coyotes barking, as I thought, all +the forenoon. And when I came to the hollow, +there was Bozie running around and around his +stub, and getting all tangled up, blatting his heart +out, while two big old coyotes (or so I thought +they were) circled around him.</p> +<p>“They ran a little way when they saw me coming. +Coyotes sometimes <i>will</i> kill calves. But I +had never seen one before that wouldn’t hunt the +tall pines when they saw me coming.</p> +<p>“Crackey, those two were big fellers! I’d +seen big coyotes, but never none like them two +gray fellers. And they snarled at me when I made +out to chase ’em—me wavin’ my arms and hollerin’ +like a Piute buck. I never had seen coyotes like +them before, and it throwed a scare into me—it +sure did!</p> +<p>“And Bozie was so scared that he helped to +scare me. I dropped my gun and started to untangle +him. And when I got him loose he acted +like all possessed!</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-186.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 308px; height: 490px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 308px;'> +“LET’S HEAR ABOUT YOUR ADVENTURE WITH THE COYOTE, MISS MORRELL.”<br /> +(Page 180.)<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></div> +<p>“He wanted to run wild,” proceeded Helen. +“He yanked me over the ground at a great rate. +And all the time those two gray fellers was +sneakin’ up behind me. Crackey, but I got +scared!</p> +<p>“A calf is awful strong—’specially when it’s +scared. You don’t know! I had to leave go +of either the rope, or the gun, and somehow,” and +Helen smiled suddenly into Miss Van Ramsden’s +face—who understood—“somehow I felt like I’d +better hang onter the gun.”</p> +<p>“They weren’t coyotes!” exclaimed Miss Van +Ramsden.</p> +<p>“No. They was wolves—real old, gray, timber-wolves. +We hadn’t been bothered by them for +years. Two of ’em, working together, would pull +down a full-grown cow, let alone a little bit of a +calf and a little bit of a gal,” said Helen.</p> +<p>“O-o-o!” squealed the excited Flossie. “But +they didn’t?”</p> +<p>“I’m here to tell the tale,” returned her cousin, +laughing outright. “Bozie broke away from me, +and the wolves leaped after him—full chase. I +knelt right down——”</p> +<p>“And prayed!” gasped Flossie. “I should +think you would!”</p> +<p>“I <i>did</i> pray—yes, ma’am! I prayed that the +bullet would go true. But I knelt down to steady +my aim,” said Helen, chuckling again. “And I +broke the back of one of them wolves with my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +first shot. That was wonderful luck—with a +twenty-two rifle. The bullet’s only a tiny thing.</p> +<p>“But I bowled Mr. Wolf over, and then I ran +after the other one and the blatting Bozie. Bozie +dodged the wolf somehow and came circling back +at me, his tail flirting in the air, coming in stiff-legged +jumps as a calf does, and searching his soul +for sounds to tell how scart he was!</p> +<p>“I’d pushed another cartridge into my gun. +But when Bozie came he bowled me over—flat on +my back. Then the wolf made a leap, and I saw +his light-gray underbody right over my head as he +flashed after poor Bozie.</p> +<p>“I jest let go with the gun! Crackey! I didn’t +have time to shoulder it, and it kicked and hit me +in the nose and made my nose bleed awful. I was +‘all in,’ too, and I thought the wolf was going to +eat Bozie, and then mebbe <i>me</i>, and I set up to +bawl so’t Big Hen heard me farther than he could +have heard my little rifle.</p> +<p>“Big Hen was always expectin’ me to get inter +some kind of trouble, and he come tearin’ along +lookin’ for me. And there I was, rolling in the +grass an’ bawling, the second wolf kicking his life +out with the blood pumping from his chest, not +three yards away from me, and Bozie streakin’ it +acrost the hill, his tail so stiff with fright you could +ha’ hung yer hat on it!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span></p> +<p>“Isn’t that perfectly grand!” cried Miss Van +Ramsden, seizing Helen by the shoulders when she +had finished and kissing her on both cheeks. +“And you only ten years old?”</p> +<p>“But, you see,” said Helen, more quietly, “we +are brought up that way in Montana. We would +die a thousand deaths if we were taught to be +afraid of anything on four legs.”</p> +<p>“It must be an exceedingly crude country,” remarked +Hortense, her nose tip-tilted.</p> +<p>“Shocking!” agreed Belle.</p> +<p>“I’d like to go there,” announced Flossie, suddenly. +“I think it must be fine.”</p> +<p>“Quite right,” agreed Miss Van Ramsden.</p> +<p>The older Starkweather girls could not go +against their most influential caller. They were +only too glad to have the Van Ramsden girl come +to see them. But while the group were discussing +Helen’s story, the girl from Sunset Ranch stole +away and went up to her room.</p> +<p>She had not meant to tell about her life in the +West—not in just this way. She had tried to talk +about as her cousins expected her to, when once she +got into the story; but its effect upon the visitors +had not been just what either the Starkweather +girls, or Helen herself, had expected.</p> +<p>She saw that she was much out of the good +graces of Belle and Hortense at dinner; they +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +hardly spoke to her. But Flossie seemed to delight +in rubbing her sisters against the grain.</p> +<p>“Oh, Pa,” she cried, “when Helen goes home, +let me go with her; will you? I’d just love to be +on a ranch for a while—I know I should! And I +<i>do</i> need a vacation.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, Floss!” gasped Hortense.</p> +<p>“You are a perfectly vulgar little thing,” declared +Belle. “I don’t know where you get such +low tastes.”</p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather looked at his youngest daughter +in amazement. “How very ridiculous,” he +said. “Ahem! You do not know what you ask, +Flossie.”</p> +<p>“Oh! I never can have anything I want,” +whined Miss Flossie. “And it must be great fun +out on that ranch. You ought to hear Helen tell +about it, Pa.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! I have no interest in such things,” +said her father, sternly. “Nor should you. No +well conducted and well brought up girl would +wish to live among such rude surroundings.”</p> +<p>“Very true, Pa,” sighed Hortense, shrugging +her shoulders.</p> +<p>“You are a very common little thing, with very +common tastes, Floss,” admonished her oldest +sister.</p> +<p>Now, all this was whipping Helen over Flossie’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span> +shoulders. The latter grinned wickedly; but +Helen felt hurt. These people were determined +to consider Sunset Ranch an utterly uncivilized +place, and her associates there beneath contempt.</p> +<p>The following morning she set out to find the +address upon the letter Mr. Starkweather had +given to her. Whether she should present this +letter to Mr. Grimes at once, Helen was not sure. +It might be that she would wish to get acquainted +with him before he knew her identity. Her expectations +were very vague, at best; and yet she +had hope.</p> +<p>She hoped that through this old-time partner +of her father’s she might pick up some clue to the +truth about the lost money. The firm of Grimes & +Morrell had been on the point of paying several +heavy bills and notes. The money for this purpose, +as well as the working capital of the firm, +had been in two banks. Either partner could +draw checks against these accounts.</p> +<p>When the deposits in both banks had been withdrawn +it had been done by checks for each complete +balance being presented at the teller’s window +of both banks. And the tellers were quite +sure that the person presenting the checks was +Prince Morrell.</p> +<p>In the rush of business, however, neither teller +had been positive of this. Of course, it might +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +have been the bookkeeper, or Mr. Grimes, who +had got the money on the checks. However it +might be, the money disappeared; there was none +with which to pay the creditors or to continue the +business of the firm.</p> +<p>Fenwick Grimes had been a sufferer; Willets +Starkweather had been a sufferer. What Allen +Chesterton, the bookkeeper, had been, it was hard +to say. He had walked out of the office of the firm +and had never come back. Likewise after a few +days of worry and disturbance, Prince Morrell +had done the same.</p> +<p>At least, the general public presumed that Mr. +Morrell had run away without leaving any clue. +It looked as though the senior partner and the +bookkeeper were in league.</p> +<p>But public interest in the mystery had soon died +out. Only the creditors remembered. After ten +years they were pleasantly reminded of the wreck +of the firm of Grimes & Morrell by the receipt of +their lost money, with interest compounded to date. +The lawyer that had come on from the West to +make the settlement for Prince Morrell bound the +creditors to secrecy. The bankruptcy court had +long since absolved Fenwick Grimes from responsibility +for the debts of the old firm. Neither he +nor Mr. Starkweather had to know that the partner +who ran away had legally cleared his name. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span></p> +<p>But there was something more. The suspicion +against Prince Morrell had burdened the cattle +king’s mind and heart when he died. And his little +daughter felt it to be her sacred duty to try, at +least, to uncover that old mystery and to prove to +the world that her father had been guiltless.</p> +<p>Mr. Grimes lived in an old house in a rather +shabby old street just off Washington Square. +Helen asked Mr. Lawdor how to find the place, +and she rode downtown upon a Fifth Avenue ’bus.</p> +<p>The house was a half-business, half-studio +building; and Mr. Grimes’s name—graven on a +small brass plate—was upon a door in the lower +hall. In fact, Mr. Grimes, and his clerk, occupied +this lower floor, the gentleman owning the +building, which he was holding for a rise in real +estate values in that neighborhood.</p> +<p>The clerk, a sharp-looking young man with +a pen behind his ear, answered Helen’s somewhat +timid knock. He looked her over severely before +he even offered to admit her, asking:</p> +<p>“What’s your business, please?”</p> +<p>“I came to see Mr. Grimes, sir.”</p> +<p>“By appointment?”</p> +<p>“No-o, sir. But——”</p> +<p>“He is very busy. He seldom sees anybody +save by appointment. Are—are you acquainted +with him?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p> +<p>“No, sir. But my business is important.”</p> +<p>“To you, perhaps,” said the clerk, with a sneering +smile. “But if it isn’t important to <i>him</i> I shall +catch it for letting you in. What is it?”</p> +<p>“It is business that I can tell to nobody except +Mr. Grimes. Not in detail. But I can say this +much: It concerns a time when Mr. Grimes was in +business with another man—sixteen years or more +ago and I have come—come from his old partner.”</p> +<p>“Humph!” said the clerk. “A begging interview? +For, if so, take my advice—don’t try it. +It would be no use. Mr. Grimes never gives anything +away. He wouldn’t even bait a rat-trap with +cheese-parings.”</p> +<p>“I have not come here to beg money of Mr. +Grimes,” said Helen, drawing herself up.</p> +<p>“Well, you can come in and wait. Perhaps +he’ll see you.”</p> +<p>This had all been said very low in the public +hall, the clerk holding the door jealously shut behind +him. Now he opened it slowly and let her +enter a large room, with old and dusty furniture +set about it, and the clerk’s own desk far back, by +another door—which latter he guarded against all +intrusion. Behind that door, of course, was the +man she had come to see.</p> +<p>But as Helen turned to take a seat on the couch +which the clerk indicated with a gesture of his pen, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +she suddenly discovered that she was not the only +person waiting in the room. In a decrepit armchair +by one of the front windows, and reading +the morning paper, with his wig pushed back upon +his bald brow, was the queer old gentleman with +whom she had ridden across the continent when +she had come to New York.</p> +<p>The discovery of this acquaintance here in Mr. +Grimes’s office gave Helen a distinct shock.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_PROBING_FOR_FACTS' id='XVIII_PROBING_FOR_FACTS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>PROBING FOR FACTS</h3> +</div> + +<p>Helen sat down quickly and stared across the +room at the queer old man. The latter at first +seemed to pay her no attention. But finally she +saw that he was skillfully “taking stock” of her +from behind the shelter of the printed sheet.</p> +<p>The Western girl was more direct than that. +She got up and walked across to him. The clerk +uttered a very loud “Ahem!” as though to warn +her to drop her intention; but Helen said coolly:</p> +<p>“Don’t you remember me, sir?”</p> +<p>“Ha! I believe it <i>is</i> the little girl who came +from the coast with me last week,” said the man.</p> +<p>“Not from the coast; from Montana,” corrected +Helen.</p> +<p>“But you are dressed differently now and I was +not sure,” he said. “How have you been?”</p> +<p>“Very well, I thank you. And you, sir?”</p> +<p>“Well. Very. But I did not expect to see you +again—er—<i>here</i>.”</p> +<p>“No, sir. And you are waiting to see Mr. +Grimes, too?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p> +<p>“Er—something like that,” admitted the old +man.</p> +<p>Helen eyed him thoughtfully. She had already +glanced covertly once or twice at the clerk across +the room. She was quite bright enough to see between +the rungs of a ladder.</p> +<p>“<i>You</i> are Mr. Grimes,” she said, bluntly, looking +again at the old man, who was adjusting his +wig.</p> +<p>He looked up at her slily, his avaricious little +eyes twinkling as they had aboard the train when +he had looked over her shoulder and caught her +counting her money.</p> +<p>“You’re a very smart little girl,” he said, with +a short laugh. “What have you come to see me +about? Do you think of investing some of your +money in mining stocks?”</p> +<p>“No,” said Helen. “I have no money to invest.”</p> +<p>“Humph. Did you find your folks?” he asked, +turning the subject quickly.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“What’s the matter with you, then? What do +you want?”</p> +<p>“You <i>are</i> Mr. Grimes?” she pursued, to make +sure.</p> +<p>“Well, I don’t deny it.”</p> +<p>“I have come to talk to you about—about +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +Prince Morrell,” she said, in a very low voice so +that the clerk could not hear.</p> +<p>“<i>Who</i>?” gasped the man, falling back in his +chair. Evidently Helen had startled him.</p> +<p>“Prince Morrell,” she replied.</p> +<p>“What are you to Prince Morrell?” demanded +the man.</p> +<p>“I am his daughter. He is dead. I have come +here to talk with you about the time—the time he +left New York,” said the girl from Sunset Ranch, +hesitatingly.</p> +<p>Mr. Grimes stared at her, with his wig still +awry, for some moments; then the color began to +come back into his face. Helen had not realized +before that he had turned pale.</p> +<p>“You come into my office,” he snapped, jumping +up briskly. “I’ll get to the bottom of +this!”</p> +<p>His movements were so very abrupt and he +looked at her so strangely that, to tell the truth, the +girl from Sunset Ranch was a bit frightened. She +trailed along behind him, however, with only a +hesitating step, passing the wondering clerk, and +heard the lock of the door of the inner office snap +behind her as Mr. Grimes shut it.</p> +<p>He drew heavy curtains over the door, too. +The place was a gloomy apartment until he turned +on the electric light over a desk table. She saw +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span> +that there were curtains at all the windows, and at +the other door, too.</p> +<p>“Come here,” he said, beckoning her to the +desk, and to a chair that stood by it, and still +speaking softly. “We will not be overheard here. +Now! Tell me what you mean by coming to me in +this way?”</p> +<p>He shot such an ugly look at her that Helen +was again startled.</p> +<p>“What do <i>you</i> mean?” she returned, hiding +her real emotion. “I have come to ask some questions. +Why shouldn’t I?”</p> +<p>“You say Prince Morrell is dead?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. Nearly two months, now.”</p> +<p>“Who sent you, then?”</p> +<p>“Sent me to you?” queried Helen, in wonder.</p> +<p>“Yes. Somebody must have sent you,” said +Mr. Grimes, watching her with his little eyes, +in which there seemed to burn a very baleful +look.</p> +<p>“You are mistaken. Nobody sent me,” said +Helen, recovering a measure of her courage. She +believed that this strange man was a coward. But +why should he be afraid of her?</p> +<p>“You came clear across this continent to interview +me about—about something that is gone +and forgotten—almost before you were born?”</p> +<p>“It isn’t forgotten,” returned Helen, meaningly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span> +“Such things are never forgotten. My +father said so.”</p> +<p>“But it’s no use hauling everything to the surface +of the pool again,” grumbled Mr. Grimes.</p> +<p>“That is about what Uncle Starkweather +says; but I do not feel that way,” said Helen, +slowly.</p> +<p>“Ha! Starkweather! Of course he’s in it. I +might have known,” muttered the old man. “So +<i>he</i> sent you to me?”</p> +<p>“No, sir. He objected to my coming,” declared +Helen, quite convinced now that she should +not deliver her uncle’s letter.</p> +<p>“The Starkweathers are the people you came +East to visit?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“And how did <i>they</i> receive you in their fine +Madison Avenue mansion?” queried Mr. Grimes, +looking up at her slily again.</p> +<p>“Just as you know they did,” returned Helen, +briefly.</p> +<p>“Ha! How’s that? And you with all +that——”</p> +<p>He halted and—for a moment—had the grace +to blush. He saw that she read his mind.</p> +<p>“They do not know that I have some money +for emergencies,” said Helen, coolly.</p> +<p>“Ho, ho!” chuckled Mr. Grimes, suddenly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span></p> +<p>“So they consider you a pauper relative from the +West?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Ho, ho!” he laughed again, and rubbed his +hands. “How <i>did</i> Prince leave you fixed?”</p> +<p>“I—I have something beside the money you +saw me counting,” she told him, bluntly.</p> +<p>“And Willets Starkweather doesn’t know it?”</p> +<p>“He has never asked me if I were in +funds.”</p> +<p>“I bet you!” cackled Grimes, at last giving +way to a spasm of mirth which, Helen thought, +was not nice to look upon. “And how does he +fancy having you in his family?”</p> +<p>“He does not like it. Neither do his daughters. +And one of their reasons is because people +will ask questions about Prince Morrell’s daughter. +They are afraid their friends will bring up +father’s old trouble,” continued Helen, her voice +quivering. “So that is why, Mr. Grime’s, I am +determined to know the truth about it.”</p> +<p>“The truth? What do you mean?” snarled +Grimes, suddenly starting out of his chair.</p> +<p>“Why, sir,” said Helen, amazed, “dad told +me all about it when he was dying. All he knew. +But he said by this time surely the truth of the matter +must have come to light. I want to clear his +name——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span></p> +<p>“How are you going to do <i>that</i>?” demanded +Mr. Grimes.</p> +<p>“I hope you will help me—if you can, sir,” +she said, pleadingly.</p> +<p>“How can I help more now than I could at +the time he was charged with the crime?”</p> +<p>“I do not know. Perhaps you can’t. Perhaps +Uncle Starkweather cannot, either. But, it seems +to me, if anything had been heard from that bookkeeper——”</p> +<p>“Allen Chesterton?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Well! I don’t know how you are going to +prove it, but I have always believed Allen was +guilty,” declared Mr. Grimes, nodding his head +vigorously, and still watching her face.</p> +<p>“Oh, have you, Mr. Grimes?” cried the girl, +eagerly, clasping her hands. “You have <i>always</i> +believed it?”</p> +<p>“Quite so. Evidence was against my old partner—yes. +But it wasn’t very direct. And then—what +became of Allen? Why did he run away?”</p> +<p>“That is what other people said about father,” +said Helen, doubtfully. “It did not make him +guilty, but it made him <i>look</i> guilty. The same +can be said of the bookkeeper.”</p> +<p>“But how can you go farther than that?” +asked Mr. Grimes. “It’s too long ago for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span> +facts to be brought out. We can have our suspicions. +We might even publish our suspicions. +Let us get something in the papers—I can do it,” +and he nodded, decisively, “stating that facts recently +brought to light seemed to prove conclusively +that Prince Morrell, once accused of embezzlement +of the bank accounts of the firm of +Grimes & Morrell, was guiltless of that crime. +And we will state that the surviving partner of the +firm is convinced that the only person guilty of that +embezzlement was one Allen Chesterton, who was +the firm’s bookkeeper. How about <i>that</i>? Wouldn’t +that fill the bill?” asked Mr. Grimes, rubbing +his hands together.</p> +<p>“If we had such an article published in the +papers and circulated among his old friends, +wouldn’t that satisfy you, my dear? Then you +would do no more of this foolish probing for facts +that cannot possibly be reached—eh? What do +you say, Helen Morrell? Isn’t that a famous +idea?”</p> +<p>But the girl from Sunset Ranch was, for the +moment, speechless. For a second time, it seemed +to her, she was being bribed to make no serious +investigation of the evidence connected with her +father’s old trouble. Both Uncle Starkweather +and this old man seemed to desire to head her +off!</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIX__JONES' id='XIX__JONES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<h3>“JONES”</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Isn’t that a famous idea?” demanded Mr. +Grimes, for the second time.</p> +<p>“I—I am not so sure, sir,” Helen stammered.</p> +<p>“Why, of course it is!” he cried, smiting the +desk before him with the flat of his palm. “Don’t +you see that your father’s name will be cleared of +all doubt? And quite right, too! He never <i>was</i> +guilty.”</p> +<p>“It makes me quite happy to hear you say so,” +said the girl, wiping her eyes. “But how about +the bookkeeper?”</p> +<p>“Who—Allen?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“Well, we couldn’t find him now. If he kept hidden +then, when there was a hue and cry out for him, +what chance would there be of finding him after +seventeen years? Oh, no! Allen can’t be found. +And, even if he could, I doubt but the thing is +outlawed. I don’t know that the authorities would +take it up. And I am pretty sure the creditors of +the old firm would not.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span></p> +<p>“That is not what I mean,” said Helen, softly. +“But suppose we accuse this bookkeeper—<i>and he +is not guilty, either</i>?”</p> +<p>“Well! Is that any great odds? Nobody +knows where he is——”</p> +<p>“But suppose he should reappear,” persisted +Helen. “Suppose somebody who loved him—a +daughter, perhaps, as I am the daughter of Prince +Morrell—with just as great a desire to clear her +father’s name as I have to clear mine—— Suppose +such a person should appear determined to +prove Mr. Chesterton not guilty, too?”</p> +<p>“Ha, but we’ve beat ’em to it—don’t you see?” +demanded Mr. Grimes, heartlessly.</p> +<p>“Oh, sir! I could not take such an apparent +victory at such a cost!” cried Helen, wiping her +eyes again. “You say you <i>believe</i> Allen Chesterton +was guilty instead of father. But you put forward +no evidence—no more than the mere suspicion +that cursed poor dad. No, no, sir! To +claim new evidence, but to show no new evidence, +is not enough. I must find out for sure just who +stole that money. That is what dad himself said +would be the only way in which his name could be +cleared.”</p> +<p>“Nonsense, girl!” ejaculated Fenwick Grimes, +scowling again.</p> +<p>“I am sorry to go against both your wishes and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span> +Uncle Starkweather’s,” said Helen, slowly. “But +I want the truth! I can’t be satisfied with anything +but the truth about this whole unfortunate business.</p> +<p>“It made poor dad very unhappy when he was +dying. It troubled my poor mother—so <i>he</i> said—all +her life out there in Montana. I want to know +where the money went—who got it—all about it. +Then I can prove to people that it was not <i>my</i> +father who committed the crime.”</p> +<p>“This is a very quixotic thing you have undertaken, +my girl,” remarked Mr. Grimes, with a sudden +change in his manner.</p> +<p>“I hope not. I hope I shall learn the truth.”</p> +<p>“How?”</p> +<p>He shot the question at her as from a gun. His +face had grown very grim and his sly little eyes +gleamed threateningly. More than ever did Helen +dislike and fear this man. The avaricious light in +his eyes as he noted the money she carried on the +train, had first warned her against him. Now, +when she knew so much more about him, and how +he was immediately connected with her father’s old +trouble, Helen feared him all the more.</p> +<p>Because of his love of money alone, she could +not trust him. And he had suggested something +which was, upon the face of it, dishonest and unfair. +She rose from her seat and shook her head slowly.</p> +<p>“I do not know how,” Helen said, sadly. “But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span> +I hope something may turn up to help me. I +understand that you have never known anything +about Allen Chesterton since he ran away?”</p> +<p>“Not a thing,” declared Mr. Grimes, shortly, +rising as well.</p> +<p>“It is through him I hoped to find the truth,” +she murmured.</p> +<p>“So you won’t accept my help?” growled Mr. +Grimes.</p> +<p>“Not—not the kind you offer. It—it wouldn’t +be right,” Helen replied.</p> +<p>“Very well, then!” snapped the man, and +opened the door into the outer office. As he +ushered her into the other room the outer door +opened and a shabby man poked his head and +shoulders in at the door.</p> +<p>“I say!” he said, quaveringly. “Is Mr. +Grimes——”</p> +<p>“Get out of here, you old ruffian!” cried Fenwick +Grimes, flying into a sudden passion. “Of +course, you’d got to come around to-day!”</p> +<p>“I only wanted to say, Mr. Grimes——”</p> +<p>“Out of my sight!” roared Grimes. “Here, +Leggett!” to his clerk; “give Jones a dollar and +let him go. I can’t see him now.”</p> +<p>“Jones, sir?” queried the clerk, seemingly +somewhat staggered, and looking from his employer +to the old scarecrow in the doorway. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p> +<p>“Yes, sir!” snarled Mr. Grimes. “I said +Jones, sir—Jones, Jones, Jones! Do you understand +plain English, Mr. Leggett? Take that dollar +on the desk and give it into the hands of +<i>Jones</i> there at the door. And then oblige me by +kicking him down the steps if he doesn’t move fast +enough.”</p> +<p>Leggett moved rapidly himself after this. He +seemed to catch his employer’s real meaning, and +he grabbed the dollar and chased the beggar out +into the hall. Grimes, meanwhile, held Helen +back a bit. But he had nothing of any consequence +to say.</p> +<p>Finally she bade him good-morning and went +out of the office. She had not given him Uncle +Starkweather’s letter. Somehow, she thought it +best not to do so. If she had been doubtful of the +sincerity of her uncle when she broached the subject +nearest her heart, she had been much more +suspicious of Fenwick Grimes.</p> +<p>She walked composedly enough out of the building; +but it was hard work to keep back the tears. +It <i>did</i> seem such a great task for a mere girl to +attempt! And nobody would help her. She had +nobody in whom to confide—nobody with whom +she might discuss the mystery.</p> +<p>And when she told herself this her mind naturally +flashed to the only real friend she had made +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span> +in New York—Sadie Goronsky. Helen had +looked up a map of the city the evening before in +her uncle’s library, and she had marked the streets +intervening between this place where she had interviewed +her father’s old partner, and Madison +Street on the East Side.</p> +<p>She had ridden downtown to Washington Arch; +so she felt equal to the walk across town and down +the Bowery to the busy street where Sadie plied +her peculiar trade.</p> +<p>She crossed the Square and went through West +Broadway to Bleecker Street and turned east on +that busy and interesting thoroughfare. Suddenly, +right ahead of her, she beheld the shabby brown +hat and wrinkled coat of the old man who had +stuck his head in at the door of Mr. Grimes’s +office, and so disturbed the equilibrium of that individual.</p> +<p>Here was “Jones.” At first Helen thought him +to be under the influence of drink. Then she saw +that the man’s erratic actions must be the result of +some physical or mental disability.</p> +<p>The old man could not walk in a straight line; +but he tacked from one side of the walk to the +other, taking long “slants” across the walk, first +touching the iron balustrade of a step on one hand, +and then bringing up at a post on the edge of the +curb. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></p> +<p>He seemed to mutter all the time to himself, +too; but what he said, or whether it was sense, or +nonsense, Helen (although she walked near him) +could not make out. She did not wish to offend +the old man; yet he seemed so helpless and peculiar +that for several blocks she trailed him (as +he seemed to be going her way), fearing that he +would get into some trouble.</p> +<p>At the busy crossings Helen was really worried. +The man first started, then dodged back, scouted +up and down the way, seemed undecided, looked +all around as though for help, and then, at the +very worst time, when the vehicles in the street +were the most numerous, he darted across, escaping +death and destruction half a dozen times between +curb and curb.</p> +<p>But somehow the angel that directs the destinies +of foolish people who cross busy city streets, +shielded him from harm, and Helen finally lost +him as he turned down one of the main stems of +the town while she kept on into the heart of +the East Side.</p> +<p>And to Helen Morrell, the very “heart of the +East Side” was right in the Goronsky flat on +Madison Street. She had been comparing that +home at the same number on Madison Street with +that her uncle’s house boasted on Madison Avenue, +with the latter mansion. The Goronsky tenement +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span> +was a <i>home</i>, for love and contentment dwelt there; +the stately Starkweather dwelling housed too many +warring factions to be a real home.</p> +<p>Helen came, at length, to Madison Street. She +had timed her coming so as to reach Jacob Finkelstein’s +shop just about the time Sadie would be +going to dinner.</p> +<p>“Miss Helen! Ain’t I glad to see you?” cried +Sadie. “Is there anything the matter with the +dress, yet?”</p> +<p>“No, Miss Sadie. I was downtown and +thought I would ask you to go to dinner with me. +I went with you yesterday.”</p> +<p>“O-oo my! I don’t know,” said Sadie, shaking +her head. “I bet you’d like to come home +with me instead—no?”</p> +<p>“I would like to. But it would not be right +for me to accept your hospitality and never return +it,” said Helen.</p> +<p>“Chee! you must ’a’ had a legacy,” laughed +Sadie.</p> +<p>“I—I have a little more money than I had yesterday,” +admitted Helen, which was true, for she +had taken some out of the wallet in the trunk before +she left her uncle’s house.</p> +<p>“Well, when you swells feel like spendin’ there +ain’t no stoppin’ youse, I suppose,” declared Sadie. +“Do you wanter fly real high?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p> +<p>“I guess we can afford a real nice dinner,” said +Helen, smiling.</p> +<p>“Are you good for as high as thirty-fi’ cents +apiece?” demanded Sadie.</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“Chee! Then I can take you to a stylish place +where we can get a swell feed at noon, for that. +It’s up on Grand Street. All the buyers and department +store heads go there with the wholesale +salesmen for lunch. Wait till I git me hat!” and +away Sadie shot, up the tenement house stairs, so +fast that her little feet, bound by the tight skirt +she wore, seemed fairly to twinkle.</p> +<p>Helen had but a few moments to wait on the +sidewalk; yet within that short time something +happened to change the entire current of the day’s +adventures. She heard some boys shouting from +the direction of the Bowery; there was a crowd +crossing the street diagonally; she watched it with +some apprehension at first, for it came right along +the sidewalk toward her.</p> +<p>“Hi, fellers! See de Lurcher! Here comes de +Lurcher!” yelled one ribald youth, who leaped on +the stoop to which Helen had retreated the better +to see over the heads of the crowd at the person +who was the core of it.</p> +<p>And then Helen, in no little amazement, saw +that this individual was none other than the man +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span> +whom she had seen driven out of Fenwick Grimes’s +office. A gang of hoodlums surrounded him. +They jeered at him, tore at his ragged clothes, +hooted, and otherwise nagged the poor old fellow.</p> +<p>At every halt he made they pressed closer upon +the “Lurcher.” It was easy to see why he had +been given that name. He was probably an old +inhabitant of the neighborhood, and his lurching +from side to side of the walk had suggested the +nickname to some local wit.</p> +<p>Just as he steered for the rail of the step on +which Helen stood, half fearful, and reached it, +Sadie Goronsky came bounding out of the house. +Instantly she took a hand—and as usual a master +hand—in the affair.</p> +<p>“What you doin’ to that old man, you Izzy +Strefonifsky? And, Freddie Bloom, you stop or +I’ll tell your mommer! Ike, let him alone, or I’ll +make your ears tingle myself—I can do it, +too!”</p> +<p>Sadie charged as she commanded. The hoodlums +scattered—some laughing, some not so easily +intimidated. But the old man was clinging to the +rail and muttering over and over to himself:</p> +<p>“They got my dollar—they got my dollar.”</p> +<p>“What’s that?” cried Sadie, coming back after +chasing the last of the boys off the block. +“What’s the matter, Mr. Lurcher?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span></p> +<p>“My dollar—they got my dollar,” muttered the +old man.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear!” whispered Helen. “And perhaps +it was all he had.”</p> +<p>“You can bet it was,” said Sadie, angrily. +“The likes of him wouldn’t likely have <i>two</i> dollars +all at once! I’d like to scalp those imps! +That I would!”</p> +<p>The old man, paying little attention to the two +girls, but still muttering about his loss, lurched +away on his erratic course homeward.</p> +<p>“Chee!” said Sadie. “Ain’t that tough luck? +He lives right around the corner, all alone. And +he’s just as poor as he can be. I don’t know what +his real name is. But the boys guy him sumpin’ +fierce! Ain’t it mean?”</p> +<p>“It certainly is,” agreed Helen.</p> +<p>“Say!” said Sadie, abruptly, but looking at +Helen with sheepish eye.</p> +<p>“Well, what?”</p> +<p>“Say, was yer <i>honest</i> goin’ to blow seventy cents +for that feed I spoke of up on Grand Street?”</p> +<p>“Certainly. And I——”</p> +<p>“And a dime to the waiter?”</p> +<p>“Of course.”</p> +<p>“That’s eighty cents,” ran on Sadie, glibly +enough now. “And twenty would make a dollar. +I’ll dig up the twenty cents to put with your +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span> +eighty, and what d’ye say we run after old Lurcher +an’ give him a dollar—say we found it, you know—and +then go upstairs to my house for dinner? +Mommer’s got a nice dinner, and she’d like to see +you again fine!”</p> +<p>“I’ll do it!” cried Helen, pulling out her purse +at once. “Here! Here’s a dollar bill. You run +after him and give it to him. You can give me +the twenty cents later.”</p> +<p>“Sure!” cried the Russian girl, and she was +off around the corner in the wake of the Lurcher, +with flying feet.</p> +<p>Helen waited for her friend to return, just inside +the tenement house door. When Sadie reappeared, +Helen hugged her tight and kissed her.</p> +<p>“You are a <i>dear</i>!” the Western girl cried. “I +do love you, Sadie!”</p> +<p>“Aw, chee! That ain’t nothin’,” objected the +East Side girl. “We poor folks has gotter help +each other.”</p> +<p>So Helen would not spoil the little sacrifice by +acknowledging to more money, and they climbed +the stairs again to the Goronsky tenement. The +girl from Sunset Ranch was glad—oh, so glad!—of +this incident. Chilled as she had been by the +selfishness in her uncle’s Madison Avenue mansion, +she was glad to have her heart warmed down here +among the poor of Madison Street.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XX_OUT_OF_STEP_WITH_THE_TIMES' id='XX_OUT_OF_STEP_WITH_THE_TIMES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<h3>OUT OF STEP WITH THE TIMES</h3> +</div> + +<p>“No,” Sadie told Helen, afterward, “I am +very sure that poor Lurcher man doesn’t drink. +Some says he does; but you never notice it on him. +It’s just his eyes.”</p> +<p>“His eyes?” queried Helen, wonderingly.</p> +<p>“Yes. He’s sort of blind. His eyelids keep +fluttering all the time. He can’t control them. +And, if you notice, he usually lifts up the lid of one +eye with his finger before he makes one of his +base-runs for the next post. Chee! I’d hate to be +like that.”</p> +<p>“The poor old man! And can nothing be done +for it?”</p> +<p>“Plenty, I reckon. But who’s goin’ to pay for +it? Not him—he ain’t got it to pay. We all has +our troubles down here, Helen.”</p> +<p>The girls had come down from the home of +Sadie again, and Helen was preparing to leave +her friend.</p> +<p>“Aren’t there places to go in the city to have +one’s eyes examined? Free hospitals, I mean?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span></p> +<p>“Sure! And they got Lurcher to one, once. +But all they give him was a prescription for glasses, +and it would cost a lot to get ’em. So it didn’t do +him no good.”</p> +<p>Helen looked at Sadie suddenly. “How much +would it take for the glasses?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I dunno. Ten dollars, mebbe.”</p> +<p>“And do you s’pose he could have that prescription +now?” asked Helen, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Mebbe. But why for?”</p> +<p>“Perhaps I could—could get somebody uptown +interested in his case who is able to pay for the +spectacles.”</p> +<p>“Chee, that would be bully!” cried Sadie.</p> +<p>“Will you find out about the prescription?”</p> +<p>“Sure I will,” declared Sadie. “Nex’ time you +come down here, Helen, I’ll know all about it. +And if you can get one of them rich ladies up there +to pay for ’em—Well! it would beat goin’ to a +swell restaurant for a feed—eh?” and she laughed, +hugged the Western girl, and then darted across +the sidewalk to intercept a possible customer who +was loitering past the row of garments displayed +in front of the Finkelstein shop.</p> +<p>But Helen did not get downtown again as soon +as she expected. When she awoke the next morning +there had set in a steady drizzle—cold and +raw—and the panes of her windows were so murky +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +that she could not see even the chimneys and roofs, +or down into the barren little yards.</p> +<p>This—nor a much heavier—rain would not +have ordinarily balked Helen. She was used to +being out in all winds and weathers. But she +actually had nothing fit to wear in the rain.</p> +<p>If she had worn the new cheap dress out of +doors she knew what would happen. It would +shrink all out of shape. And she had no raincoat, +nor would she ask her cousins—so she told +herself—for the loan of an umbrella.</p> +<p>So, as long as it rained steadily, it looked as +though the girl from Sunset Ranch was a sure-enough +“shut-in.” Nor did she contemplate this +possibility with any pleasure.</p> +<p>There was nothing for her to do but read. +And one cannot read all the time. She had no +“fancy-work” with which to keep her hands and +mind busy. She wondered what her cousins did on +such days. She found out by keeping her ears +and eyes open. After breakfast Belle went shopping +in the limousine. There was an early +luncheon and all three of the Starkweather girls +went to a matinée. In neither case was Helen +invited to go—no, indeed! She was treated as +though she were not even in the house. Seldom +did either of the older girls speak to her.</p> +<p>“I might as well be a ghost,” thought Helen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p> +<p>And this reminded her of the little old lady who +paced the ghost-walk every night—the ex-nurse, +Mary Boyle. She had thought of going to see her +on the top floor before; but she had not been able +to pluck up the courage.</p> +<p>Now that her cousins were gone from the house, +however, and Mrs. Olstrom was taking a nap +in her room, and Mr. Lawdor was out of the way, +and all the under-servants mildly celebrating the +free afternoon below stairs, Helen determined to +venture out of her own room, along the main passage +of the top floor, to the door which she believed +must give upon the front suite of rooms +which the little old lady occupied.</p> +<p>She knocked, but there was no response. Nor +could she hear any sound from within. It struck +Helen that the principal cruelty of the Starkweathers’ +treatment of this old soul was her being +shut away alone up here at the top of the house—too +far away from the rest of its occupants for a +cry to be heard if the old lady should be in trouble.</p> +<p>“If they shut up a dog like this, he would howl +and thus attract attention to his state,” muttered +Helen. “But here is a human being——”</p> +<p>She tried the door. The latch clicked and the +door swung open. Helen stepped into a narrow, +hall-like room, well furnished with old-fashioned +furniture (probably brought from below stairs +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +when Mr. Starkweather re-decorated the mansion) +with one window in it. The door which +evidently gave upon the remainder of the suite +was closed.</p> +<p>As Helen listened, however, from behind this +closed door came a cheerful, cracked voice—the +same voice she had heard whispering the lullaby in +the middle of the night. But now it was tuning +up on an old-time ballad, very popular in its day:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>“Wait till the clouds roll by, Jennie—</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Wait till the clouds roll by!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Jennie, my own true loved one—</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0em;'>Wait till the clouds roll by.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“She doesn’t sound like a hopeless prisoner,” +thought Helen, with surprise.</p> +<p>She waited a minute longer and, as the thin yet +still sweet voice stopped, Helen knocked timidly +on the inner door. Immediately the voice said, +“Come in, deary. ’Tis not for the likes of you to +be knockin’ at old Mary’s door. Come in!”</p> +<p>Helen turned the knob slowly and went into the +room. The moment she crossed the threshold she +forgot the clouds and rain and gloominess which +had depressed her. Indeed, it seemed as though +the sun must be ever shining into this room, high +up under the roof of the Starkweather mansion. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span></p> +<p>In the first place, it was most cheerfully papered +and painted. There were pretty, simple, yellow +and white hangings. The heavier pieces of old +furniture had gay “tidies” or “throws” upon +them to relieve the sombreness of the dark wood. +The pictures on the walls were all in white or gold +frames, and were of a cheerful nature—mostly +pictures of childhood, or pictures which would +amuse children. Evidently much of the furnishings +of the old nursery had been brought up here +to Mary Boyle’s sitting-room.</p> +<p>Helen had a glimpse, through a half-open door, +of the bedroom—quite as bright and pretty. +There was a little stove set up here, and a fire +burned in it. It was one of those stoves that have +isinglass all around it so that the fire can be seen +when it burns red. It added mightily to the cheerful +tone of the room.</p> +<p>How neat everything appeared! Yet the very +neatest thing in sight was the little old lady herself, +sitting in a green-painted rocker, with a low +sewing-table at her side, wooden needles clicking +fast in her fleecy knitting.</p> +<p>She looked up at Helen with a little, bird-like +motion—her head a bit on one side and her glance +quizzical. This, it proved, was typical of Mary +Boyle.</p> +<p>“Deary, deary me!” she said. “You’re a <i>new</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +girl. And what do you want Mary to do for +you?”</p> +<p>“I—I thought I’d come and make you a little +call,” said Helen, timidly.</p> +<p>This wasn’t at all as she expected to find the +shut-in! Instead of gloom, and tears, and the +weakness of age, here were displayed all the opposite +emotions and qualities. The woman who was +forgotten did not appear to be an object of pity +at all. She merely seemed out of step with the +times.</p> +<p>“I’m sure you’re very welcome, deary,” said +the old nurse. “Draw up the little rocker yonder. +I always keep it for young company,” and +Mary Boyle, who had had no young company up +here for ten or a dozen years, spoke as though the +appearance of a youthful face and form was of +daily occurrence.</p> +<p>“You see,” spoke Helen, more confidently, “we +are neighbors on this top floor.”</p> +<p>“Neighbors; air we?”</p> +<p>“I live up here, too. The family have tucked +me away out of sight.”</p> +<p>“Hush!” said the little old woman. “We +shouldn’t criticise our bethers. No, no! And +this is a very cheerful par-r-rt of the house, so +it is.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span></p> +<p>“But it must be awful,” exclaimed Helen, “to +have to stay in it all the time!”</p> +<p>“I don’t have to stay in it all the time,” replied +the nurse, quickly.</p> +<p>“No, ma’am. I hear you in the night going +downstairs and walking in the corridor,” Helen +said, softly.</p> +<p>The wrinkled old face blushed very prettily, and +Mary Boyle looked at her visitor doubtfully.</p> +<p>“Sure, ’tis such a comfort for an old body like +me,” she said, at last, “to make believe.”</p> +<p>“Make believe?” cried Helen, with a smile. +“Why, <i>I’m</i> not old, and I love to make believe.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yis! But there is a differ bechune the +make-believes of the young and the make-believes +of the old. <i>You</i> are playin’ you’re grown up, +or dramin’ of what’s comin’ to you in th’ future—sure, +I know! I’ve had them drames, too, in me +day.</p> +<p>“But with old folks ’tis different. We do be +har-r-rking back instead of lookin’ for’ard. And +with me, it’s thinkin’ of the babies I’ve held in me +ar-r-rms, and rocked on me knee, and walked the +flure wid when they was ailin’—An’ sure the +babies of <i>this</i> house was always ailin’, poor little +things.”</p> +<p>“They were a great trouble to you, then?” +asked Helen, softly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span></p> +<p>“Trouble, is it?” cried Mary Boyle, her eyes +shining again. “Sure, how could a blessid infant +be a trouble? ’Tis a means of grace they be to the +hear-r-rt—I nade no preacher to tell me that, +deary. I found thim so. And they loved me and +was happy wid me,” she added, cheerfully.</p> +<p>“The folks below think me a little quare in me +head,” she confided to her visitor. “But they +don’t understand. To walk up and down the nursery +corridor late at night relaves the ache here,” +and she put her little, mitted hand upon her +heart. “Ye see, I trod that path so often—so +often——”</p> +<p>Her voice trailed off and she fell silent, gazing +into the glow of the fire in the stove. But there +was a smile on her lips. The past was no time to +weep over. This cheerful body saw only the +bright spots in her long, long life.</p> +<p>Helen loved to hear her talk. And soon she and +Mary Boyle were very well acquainted. One thing +about the old nurse Helen liked immensely. She +asked no questions. She accepted Helen’s visit +as a matter of course; yet she showed very plainly +that she was glad to have a young face before +her.</p> +<p>But the girl from Sunset Ranch did not know +how Mrs. Olstrom might view her making friends +with the old lady; so she made her visit brief. But +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +she promised to come again and bring a book to +read to Mary Boyle.</p> +<p>“Radin’ is a great accomplishment, deary,” +declared the old woman. “I niver seemed able to +masther it—although me mistress oft tried to tache +me. But, sure, there was so much to l’arn about +babies, that ain’t printed in no book, that I was +always radin’ them an’ niver missed the book +eddication till I come to be old. But th’ foine +poethry me mistress useter be radin’ me! Sure, +’twould almost put a body to slape, so swate and +grand it was.”</p> +<p>So, Helen searched out a book of poems downstairs, +and the next forenoon she ventured into the +front suite again, and read ta Mary Boyle for an +hour. The storm lasted several days, and each day +the girl from the West spent more and more time +with the little old woman.</p> +<p>But this was all unsuspected by Uncle Starkweather +and the three girls. If Mrs. Olstrom +knew she said nothing. At least, she timed her +own daily visits to the little old woman so that she +would not meet Helen in the rooms devoted to +old Mary’s comfort.</p> +<p>Nor were Helen’s visits continued solely because +she pitied Mary Boyle. How could she +continue to pity one who did not pity herself?</p> +<p>No. Helen received more than she gave in this +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +strange friendship. Seeking to amuse the old +nurse, she herself gained such an uplift of heart +and mind that it began to counteract that spirit +of sullenness that had entered into the Western +girl when she had first come to this house and +had been received so unkindly by her relatives.</p> +<p>Instead of hating them, she began to pity them. +How much Uncle Starkweather was missing by +being so utterly selfish! How much the girls were +missing by being self-centred!</p> +<p>Why, see it right here in Mary Boyle’s case! +Nobody could associate with the delightful little +old woman without gaining good from the association. +Instead of being friends with the old nurse, +and loving her and being loved by her, the Starkweather +girls tucked her away in the attic and +tried to ignore her existence.</p> +<p>“They don’t know what they’re missing—poor +things!” murmured Helen, thinking the situation +over.</p> +<p>And from that time her own attitude changed +toward her cousins. She began to look out for +chances to help them, instead of making herself +more and more objectionable to Belle, Hortense, +and Flossie.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXI_BREAKING_THE_ICE' id='XXI_BREAKING_THE_ICE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<h3>BREAKING THE ICE</h3> +</div> + +<p>As for Floss, Helen had already got a hold +upon that young lady.</p> +<p>“Come on, Helen!” the younger cousin would +whisper after dinner. “Come up to my room and +give me a start on these lessons; will you? That’s +a good chap.”</p> +<p>And often when the rest of the family thought +the unwelcome visitor had retired to her room at +the top of the house, she was shut in with Flossie, +trying to guide the stumbling feet of that rather +dull girl over the hard places in her various +studies.</p> +<p>For Floss had soon discovered that the girl +from Sunset Ranch somehow had a wonderful +insight into every problem she put up to her. Nor +were they all in algebra.</p> +<p>“I don’t see how you managed to do it, ’way out +there in that wild place you lived in; but you must +have gone through ’most all the text-books I have,” +declared Flossie, once.</p> +<p>“Oh, I had to grab every chance there was for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span> +schooling,” Helen responded, and changed the +subject instantly.</p> +<p>Flossie thought she had a secret from her sisters, +however, and she hugged it to her with much glee. +She realized that Helen was by no means the +ignoramus Belle and Hortense said.</p> +<p>“And let ’em keep on thinking it,” Flossie said, +to herself, with a chuckle. “I don’t know what +Helen has got up her sleeve; but I believe she is +fooling all of us.”</p> +<p>A long, dreary fortnight of inclement weather +finally got on the nerves of Hortense. Belle could +go out tramping in it, or cab-riding, or what-not. +She was athletic, and loved exercise in the open +air, no matter what the weather might be. But +the second sister was just like a pussy-cat; she loved +comfort and the warm corners. However, being +left alone by Belle, and nobody coming in to call +for several days, Hortense was completely overpowered +by loneliness.</p> +<p>She had nothing within herself to fight off nervousness +and depression. So, having caught a little, +sniffly cold, she decided that she was sick and went +to bed.</p> +<p>The Starkweather girls did not each have a +maid. Mr. Starkweather could not afford that +luxury. But Hortense at once requisitioned one +of the housemaids to wait upon her and of course +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +Mrs. Olstrom’s very carefully-thought-out system +was immediately turned topsy-turvy.</p> +<p>“I cannot allow you, Miss, to have the services +of Maggie all day long,” Helen heard the housekeeper +announce at the door of the invalid’s room. +“We are not prepared to do double work in this +house. You must either speak to your father and +have a nurse brought in, or wait upon yourself.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you heartless, wicked thing!” cried Hortense. +“How can you be so cruel? I couldn’t +wait upon myself. I want my broth. And I +want my hair done. And you can see yourself +how the room is all in a mess. And——”</p> +<p>“Maggie must do her parlor work to-day. You +know that. If you want to be waited upon, Miss, +get your sister to do it,” concluded the housekeeper, +and marched away.</p> +<p>“And she very well knows that Belle has gone +out somewhere and Flossie is at school. I could +<i>die</i> here, and nobody would care,” wailed Hortense.</p> +<p>Helen walked into the richly furnished room. +Hortense was crying into her pillow. Her hair +was still in two unkempt braids and she <i>did</i> need +a fresh boudoir cap and gown.</p> +<p>“Can I do anything to help you, ’Tense?” asked +Helen, cheerfully.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear me—no!” exclaimed her cousin. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +“You’re so loud and noisy. And do, <i>do</i> call me +by my proper name.”</p> +<p>“I forgot. Sure, I’ll call you anything you +say,” returned the Western girl, smiling at her. +Meanwhile she was moving about the room, +deftly putting things to rights.</p> +<p>“I’m going to tell father the minute he comes +home!” wailed Hortense, ignoring her cousin for +the time and going back to her immediate troubles. +“I am left all alone—and I’m sick—and +nobody cares—and—and——”</p> +<p>“Where do you keep your caps, Hortense?” interrupted +Helen. “And if you’ll let me, I’ll brush +your hair and make it look pretty. And then you +get into a fresh nightgown——”</p> +<p>“Oh, I couldn’t sit up,” moaned Hortense. “I +really couldn’t. I’m too weak.”</p> +<p>“I’ll show you how. Let me fix the pillows—<i>so!</i> +And <i>so!</i> There—nothing like trying; is +there? You’re comfortable; aren’t you?”</p> +<p>“We-ell——”</p> +<p>Helen was already manipulating the hairbrush. +She did it so well, and managed to arrange Hortense’s +really beautiful hair so simply yet easily on +her head that the latter quite approved of it—and +said so—when she looked into her hand-mirror.</p> +<p>Then Helen got her into a chair, in a fresh +robe and a pretty kimono, while she made the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +bed—putting on new sheets and cases for the pillows +so that all should be sweet and clean. Of +course, Hortense wasn’t really sick—only lazy. +But she thought she was sick and Helen’s attentions +pleased the spoiled girl.</p> +<p>“Why, you’re not such a bad little thing, +Helen,” she said, dipping into a box of chocolates +on the stand by her bedside. Chocolates were +about all the medicine Hortense took during this +“bad attack.” And she was really grateful—in +her way—to her cousin.</p> +<p>It was later on this day that Helen plucked up +courage to go to her uncle and give him back the +letter he had written to Fenwick Grimes.</p> +<p>“I did not use it, sir,” she said.</p> +<p>“Ahem!” he said, and with evident relief. +“You have thought better of it, I hope? You +mean to let the matter rest where it is?”</p> +<p>“I have not abandoned my attempt to get at +the truth—no, Uncle Starkweather.”</p> +<p>“How foolish of you, child!” he cried.</p> +<p>“I do not think it is foolish. But I will try not +to mix you up in my inquiries. That is why I did +not use the letter.”</p> +<p>“And you have seen Grimes?” he asked, +hastily.</p> +<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> +<p>“Does he know who you are?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></p> +<p>“Oh, yes.”</p> +<p>“And you reached him without an introduction? +I understand he is hard to approach. He +is a money-lender, in a way, and he has an odd +manner of never appearing to come into personal +contact with his clients.”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir. I think him odd.”</p> +<p>“Did—did he think he could help you?”</p> +<p>“He thinks just as you do, sir,” stated Helen, +honestly. “And, then, he accused you of sending +me to him at first; so I would not use your letter +and so compromise you.”</p> +<p>“Ahem!” said the gentleman, surprised that +this young girl should be so circumspect. It rather +startled him to discover that she was thoughtful +far beyond her years. Was it possible that—somehow—she +<i>might</i> bring to light the truth regarding +the unhappy difficulty that had made Prince Morrell +an exile from his old home for so many +years?</p> +<p>Once May Van Ramsden ran in to see Belle and +caught Helen going through the hall on her way +to her own room. It was just after luncheon, +which she and Belle had eaten in a silence that +could be felt. Belle would not speak to her cousin +unless she was obliged to, and Helen did not see +that forcing her attentions upon the other girl +would do any good. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span></p> +<p>“Why, here you are, Helen Morrell! Why +don’t I ever see you when I come here?” cried the +caller, shaking Helen by both hands and smiling +upon her heartily from her superior height. +“When are your cousins going to bring you to +call upon me?”</p> +<p>Helen might have replied, truthfully, “Never;” +but she only shook her head and smilingly declared: +“I hope to see you again soon, Miss Van +Ramsden.”</p> +<p>“Well, I guess you must!” cried the caller. +“I want to hear some more of your experiences,” +and she went on to meet the scowling Belle at the +door of the reception parlor.</p> +<p>Later her eldest cousin said to the Western girl:</p> +<p>“In going up and down to your room, Miss, I +want you to remember that there is a back stairway. +Use the servants’ stairs, if you please!”</p> +<p>Helen made no reply. She wasn’t breaking +much of the ice between her and Belle Starkweather, +that was sure. And to add to Belle’s +dislike for her cousin, there was another happening +in which Miss Van Ramsden was concerned, +soon after this.</p> +<p>Hortense was still abed, for the weather remained +unpleasant—and there really was nothing +else for the languid cousin to do. Miss Van Ramsden +found Belle out, and she went upstairs to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +say “how-do” to the invalid. Helen was in the +room making the spoiled girl more comfortable, +and Miss Van Ramsden drew the younger girl +out into the hall when she left.</p> +<p>“I really have come to see <i>you</i>, child,” she said +to Helen, frankly. “I was telling papa about +you and he said he would dearly love to meet +Prince Morrell’s daughter. Papa went to college +with your father, my dear.”</p> +<p>Helen was glad of this, and yet she flushed a +little. She was quite frank, however: “Does—does +your father know about poor dad’s trouble?” +she whispered.</p> +<p>“He does. And he always believed Mr. Morrell +not guilty. Father was one of the firm’s +creditors, and he has always wished your father +had come to him instead of leaving the city so +long ago.”</p> +<p>“Then he’s been paid?” cried Helen, eagerly.</p> +<p>“Certainly. It is a secret, I believe—father +warned me not to speak of it unless you did; but +everybody was paid by your father after a time. +<i>That</i> did not look as though he were dishonest. +His partner took advantage of the bankruptcy +courts.”</p> +<p>“Of—of course your father has no idea who +<i>was</i> guilty?” whispered Helen, anxiously.</p> +<p>“None at all,” replied Miss Van Ramsden. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +“It was a mystery then and remains so to this +day. That bookkeeper was a peculiar man, but +had a good record; and it seems that he left the +city before the checks were cashed. Or, so the +evidence seemed to prove.</p> +<p>“Now, don’t cry, my dear! Come! I wish +we could help you clear up that old trouble. But +many of your father’s old friends—like papa—never +believed Prince Morrell guilty.”</p> +<p>Helen was crying by this time. The kindness +of this older girl broke down her self-possession. +They heard somebody coming up the stairs, and +Miss Van Ramsden said, quickly:</p> +<p>“Take me to your room, dear. We can talk +there.”</p> +<p>Helen never thought that she might be giving +the Starkweather family deadly offence by doing +this. She led Miss Van Ramsden immediately to +the rear of the house and up the back stairway to +the attic floor. The caller looked somewhat +amazed when Helen ushered her into the +room.</p> +<p>“Well, they could not have put you much nearer +the sky; could they?” she said, laughing, yet eyeing +Helen askance.</p> +<p>“Oh, I don’t mind it up here,” returned Helen, +truthfully enough. “And I have some company +on this floor.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>“Ahem! The maids, I suppose?” said May +Van Ramsden.</p> +<p>“No, no,” Helen assured her, eagerly. “The +dearest little old lady you ever saw.”</p> +<p>Then she stopped and looked at her caller in +some distress. For the moment she had forgotten +that she was probably on the way to reveal the +Starkweather family skeleton!</p> +<p>“A little old lady? Who can <i>that</i> be?” cried +the caller. “You interest me.”</p> +<p>“I—I—Well, it is an old lady who was once +nurse in the family and I believe Uncle Starkweather +cares for her——”</p> +<p>“It’s never Nurse Boyle?” cried Miss Van +Ramsden, suddenly starting up. “Why! I remember +about her. But somehow, I thought she +had died years ago. Why, as a child I used to +visit her at the house, and she used to like to have +me come to see her. That was before your cousins +lived here, Helen. Then I went to Europe +for several years and when we returned the house +had all been done over, your uncle’s family was +here, and I think—I am not sure—somebody told +me dear old Mary Boyle was dead.”</p> +<p>“No,” observed Helen, thoughtfully. “She is +not dead. She is only forgotten.”</p> +<p>Miss Van Ramsden looked at the Western girl +for some moments in silence. She seemed to understand +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +the whole matter without a word of +further explanation.</p> +<p>“Would you mind letting me see Mary Boyle +while I am here?” she asked, gravely. “She +was a very lovely old soul, and all the families +hereabout—I have heard my mother often say—quite +envied the Starkweathers their possession of +such a treasure.”</p> +<p>“Certainly we can go in and see her,” declared +Helen, throwing all discretion to the winds. “I +was going to read to her this afternoon, anyway. +Come along!”</p> +<p>She led the caller through the hall to Mary +Boyle’s little suite of rooms. To herself Helen +said:</p> +<p>“Let the wild winds of disaster blow! Whew! +If the family hears of this I don’t know but they +will want to have me arrested—or worse! But +what can I do? And then—Mary Boyle deserves +better treatment at their hands.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXII_IN_THE_SADDLE' id='XXII_IN_THE_SADDLE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<h3>IN THE SADDLE</h3> +</div> + +<p>The little old lady “tidied” her own room. +She hopped about like a bird with the aid of the +ebony crutch, and Helen and Miss Van Ramsden +heard the “step—put” of her movements when +they entered the first room.</p> +<p>“Come in, deary!” cried the dear old soul. +“I was expecting you. Ah, whom have we here? +Good-day to you, ma’am!”</p> +<p>“Nurse Boyle! don’t you remember me?” +cried the visitor, going immediately to the old +lady and kissing her on both cheeks.</p> +<p>“Bless us, now! How would I know ye?” +cried the old woman. “Is it me old eyes I have +set on ye for many a long year now?”</p> +<p>“And I blame myself for it, Nurse,” cried May +Van Ramsden. “Don’t you remember little May—the +Van Ramsdens’ May—who used to come +to see you so often when she was about so-o +high?” cried the girl, measuring the height of a +five or six-year-old.</p> +<p>“A neighbor’s baby <i>did</i> come to see Old Mary +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span> +now and then,” cried the nurse. “But you’re +never May?”</p> +<p>“I am, Nurse.”</p> +<p>“And growed so tall and handsome? Well, +well, well! It does bate all, so it does. Everybody +grows up but Mary Boyle; don’t they?” +and the old woman cackled out a sweet, +high laugh, and sat down to “visit” with her +callers.</p> +<p>The two girls had a very charming time with +Mary Boyle. And May Van Ramsden promised +to come again. When they left the old lady she +said, earnestly, to Helen:</p> +<p>“And there are others that will be glad to come +and see Nurse Boyle. When she was well and +strong—before she had to use that crutch—she +often appeared at our houses when there was trouble—serious +trouble—especially with the babies or +little children. And what Mary Boyle did not +know about pulling young ones out of the mires of +illness, wasn’t worth knowing. Why, I know a +dozen boys and girls whose lives were probably +saved by her. They shall be reminded of her +existence. And—it shall be due to you, Little +Cinderella!”</p> +<p>Helen smiled deprecatingly. “It will be due +to your own kind heart, Miss Van Ramsden,” she +returned. “I see that everybody in the city is not +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span> +so busy with their own affairs that they cannot +think of other people.”</p> +<p>The young lady kissed her again and said goodbye. +But that did not end the matter—no, indeed! +The news that Miss Van Ramsden had +been taken to the topmost story of the Starkweather +mansion—supposedly to Helen’s own +room only—by the Western girl, dribbled through +the servants to Belle Starkweather herself when +she came home.</p> +<p>“Now, Pa! I won’t stand that common little +thing being here any longer—no, I won’t! Why, +she did that just on purpose to make folks talk—to +make people believe that we abuse her. Of +course, she told May that <i>I</i> sent her to the top +story to sleep. You get rid of that girl, Pa, or I +declare I’ll go away. I guess I can find somebody +to take me in as long as you wish to keep Prince +Morrell’s daughter here in <i>my</i> place.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! I—I must beg you to compose yourself, +Belle——”</p> +<p>“I won’t—and that’s flat!” declared his eldest +daughter. “Either she goes; or I do.”</p> +<p>“Do let Belle go, Pa,” drawled Flossie. “She +is getting too bossy, anyway. <i>I</i> don’t mind having +Helen here. She is rather good fun. And +May Van Ramsden came here particularly to +see Helen.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span></p> +<p>“That’s not so!” cried Belle, stamping her +foot.</p> +<p>“It is. Maggie heard her say so. Maggie was +coming up the stairs and heard May ask Helen to +take her to her room. What could the poor girl +do?”</p> +<p>“Ahem! Flossie—I am amazed at you—amazed +at you!” gasped Mr. Starkweather. +“What do you learn at school?”</p> +<p>“Goodness me! I couldn’t tell you,” returned +the youngest of his daughters, carelessly. “It’s +none of it any good, though, Pa. You might as +well take me out.”</p> +<p>“I’ve told that girl to use the back stairs, and to +keep out of the front of the house,” went on Belle, +ignoring Flossie. “If she had not been hanging +about the front of the house, May Van Ramsden +would not have seen her——”</p> +<p>“’Tain’t so!” snapped Flossie.</p> +<p>“<i>Will</i> you be still, minx?” demanded the older +sister.</p> +<p>“I don’t care. Let’s give Helen a fair deal. I +tell you, Pa, May said she came particularly to see +Helen. Besides, Helen had been in Hortense’s +room, and that is where May found her. Helen +was brushing Hortense’s hair. Hortense told me +so.”</p> +<p>“Ahem! I am astonished at you, Flossie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span> +The fact remains that Helen is a source of trouble +in the house. I really do wish I knew how to +get rid of her.”</p> +<p>“You give me permission, Pa,” sneered Belle, +“and I’ll get rid of her very quickly—you see!”</p> +<p>“No, no!” exclaimed the troubled father. “I—I +cannot use the iron hand at present—not at +present.”</p> +<p>“Humph!” exclaimed the shrewd Belle. “I’d +like to know what you are afraid of, Pa?”</p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather tried to frown down his +daughter, but was unsuccessful. He merely presented +a picture of a very cowardly man trying to +look brave. It wasn’t much of a picture.</p> +<p>So—as may be easily conceived—Helen was not +met at dinner by her relatives in any conciliatory +manner. Yet the girl from the West really wished +she might make friends with Uncle Starkweather +and her cousins.</p> +<p>“It must be that a part of the fault is with me,” +she told herself, when she crept up to her room +after a gloomy time in the dining-room. “If I +had it in me to please them—to make them happier—surely +they could not treat me as they do. +Oh, dear, I wish I had learned better how to be +popular.”</p> +<p>That night Helen felt about as bad as she had +any time since she arrived in the great city. She +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +was too disturbed to read. She lay in bed until +the small hours of the morning, unable to sleep, +and worrying over all her affairs, which seemed, +since she had arrived in New York, to go altogether +wrong.</p> +<p>She had not made an atom of progress in that +investigation which she had hoped would bring to +light the truth about the mystery which had sent +her father and mother West—fugitives—before +she was born. She had only succeeded in becoming +thoroughly suspicious of her Uncle Starkweather +and of Fenwick Grimes.</p> +<p>Nor had she made any advance in the discovery +of the mysterious Allen Chesterton, the bookkeeper +of her father’s old firm, who held, she believed, +the key to the mystery. She did not know +what step to take next. She did not know what +to do. And there was nobody with whom she +could consult—nobody in all this great city to +whom she could go.</p> +<p>Never before had Helen felt so lonely as she +did this night. She had money enough with her +to pay somebody to help her dig back for facts +regarding the disappearance of the money belonging +to the old firm of Grimes & Morrell. But +she did not know how to go about getting the +help she needed.</p> +<p>Her only real confidante—Sadie Goronsky—would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span> +not know how to advise her in this emergency.</p> +<p>“I wish I had let Dud Stone give me his address. +He said he was learning to be a lawyer,” +thought Helen. “And just now, I s’pose, a lawyer +is what I need most. But I wouldn’t know how +to go about engaging a lawyer—not a good one.”</p> +<p>She awoke at her usual time next morning, and +the depression of the night before was still with +her. But when she jumped up she saw that it was +no longer raining. The sky was overcast, but she +could venture forth without running the risk of +spoiling her new suit.</p> +<p>And right there a desperate determination came +into Helen Morrell’s mind. She had learned that +on the west side of Central Park there was a riding +academy. She was <i>hungry</i> for an hour in the +saddle. It seemed to her that a gallop would +clear all the cobwebs away and make her feel like +herself once more.</p> +<p>The house was still silent and dark. She took +her riding habit out of the closet, made it up +into a bundle, and crept downstairs with it under +her arm. She escaped the watchful Lawdor for +once, and got out by the area door before even +the cook had crept, yawning, downstairs to begin +her day’s work.</p> +<p>Helen, hurrying through the dark, dripping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +streets, found a little restaurant where she could +get rolls and coffee on her way to the Columbus +Circle riding academy. It was still early when +the girl from Sunset Ranch reached her goal. +Yes, a mount was to be had, and she could change +her street clothes for her riding suit in the dressing-rooms.</p> +<p>The city—at least, that part of it around Central +Park—was scarcely awake when Helen walked +her mount out of the stable and into the park. +The man in charge had given her to understand +that there were few riders astir so early.</p> +<p>“You’ll have the bridle-path to yourself, Miss, +going out,” he said.</p> +<p>Helen had picked up a little cap to wear, and +astride the saddle, with her hair tied with a big +bow of ribbon at the nape of her neck, she looked +very pretty as the horse picked his way across the +esplanade into the bridle-path. But there were +few, as the stableman had said, to see her so +early in the morning.</p> +<p>It did not rain, however. Indeed, there was a +fresh breeze which, she saw, was tearing the low-hung +clouds to shreds. And in the east a rosy +spot in the fog announced the presence of the sun +himself, ready to burst through the fleecy veil and +smile once more upon the world.</p> +<p>The trees and brush dripped upon the fallen +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +leaves. For days the park caretakers had been unable +to rake up these, and they had become almost +a solid pattern of carpeting for the lawns. And +down here in the bridle-path, as she cantered +along, their pungent odor, stirred by the hoofs of +her mount, rose in her nostrils.</p> +<p>This wasn’t much like galloping over an open +trail on a nervous little cow-pony. But it was +both a bodily and mental relief for the outdoor +girl who had been, for these past weeks, shut into +a groove for which she was so badly fitted.</p> +<p>She saw nobody on horseback but a mounted +policeman, who turned and trotted along beside +her, and was pleasant and friendly. This pleased +Helen; and especially was she pleased when she +learned that he had been West and had “punched +cows” himself. That had been some years ago, +but he remembered the Link-A—now the Sunset—Ranch, +although he had never worked for that +outfit.</p> +<p>Helen’s heart expanded as she cantered along. +The sun dispelled the mist and shone warm upon +the path. The policeman left her, but now there +were other riders abroad. She went far out of +town, as directed by the officer, and found the ride +beautiful. After all, there were some lovely spots +in this great city, if one only knew where to find +them. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p> +<p>She had engaged a strong horse with good +wind; but she did not want to break him down. +So she finally turned her face toward the city +again and let the animal take its own pace +home.</p> +<p>She had ridden down as far as 110th Street +and had crossed over into the park once more, +when she saw a couple of riders advancing toward +her from the south. They were a young man and +a girl, both well mounted, and Helen noted instantly +that they handled their spirited horses +with ease.</p> +<p>Indeed, she was so much interested in the +mounts themselves, that she came near passing the +two without a look at their faces. Suddenly +she heard an exclamation from the young fellow, +she looked up, and found herself gazing straight +into the handsome face of Dudley Stone.</p> +<p>“For the love of heaven!” gasped that astonished +young man. “It surely <i>is</i> Helen Morrell! +Jess! See here! Here’s the very nicest girl who +ever came out of Montana!”</p> +<p>Dud’s sister—Helen knew she must be his sister, +for she had the same coloring as and a strong +family resemblance to the budding lawyer—wheeled +her horse and rode directly to Helen’s +side.</p> +<p>“Oh, Miss Morrell!” she cried, putting out +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +her gauntleted hand. “Is it really she, Dud? +How wonderful!”</p> +<p>Helen shook hands rather timidly, for Miss +Jessie Stone was torrential in her speech. There +wasn’t a chance to “get a word in edgewise” +when once she was started upon a subject that +interested her.</p> +<p>“My goodness me!” she cried, still shaking +Helen’s hand. “Is this really the girl who pulled +you out of that tree, Dud? Who saved your life +and took you on her pony to the big ranch? My, +how romantic!</p> +<p>“And you really own a ranch, Miss Morrell? +How nice that must be! And plenty of cattle on +it—Why! you don’t mind the price of beef at +all; do you? And what a clever girl you must be, +too. Dud came back full of your praise, now I +tell you——”</p> +<p>“There, there!” cried Dud. “Hold on a bit, +Jess, and let’s hear how Miss Morrell is—and +what she is doing here in the big city, and all +that.”</p> +<p>“Well, I declare, Dud! You take the words +right out of my mouth,” said his sister, warmly. +“I was just going to ask her that. And we’re +going to the Casino for breakfast, Miss Morrell, +and you must come with us. You’ve had your +ride; haven’t you?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span></p> +<p>“I—I’m just returning,” admitted Helen, rather +breathless, if Jess was not.</p> +<p>“Come on, then!” cried the good-natured but +talkative city girl. “Come, Dud, you ride ahead +and engage a table and order something nice. +I’m as ravenous as a wolf. Dear me, Miss Morrell, +if you have been riding long you must be +quite famished, too!”</p> +<p>“I had coffee and rolls early,” said Helen, as +Dud spurred his horse away.</p> +<p>“Oh, what’s coffee and rolls? Nothing at all—nothing +at all! After I’ve been jounced around +on this saddle for an hour I feel as though I never +<i>had</i> eaten. I don’t care much for riding myself, +but Dud is crazy for it, and I come to keep him +company. You must ride with us, Miss Morrell. +How long are you going to stay in town? And +to think of your having saved Dud’s life—Well! +he’ll never get over talking about it.”</p> +<p>“He makes too much of the incident,” declared +Helen, determined to get in a word. “I only +lent him a rope and he saved himself.”</p> +<p>“No. You carried him on your pony to that +ranch. Oh, I know it all by heart. He talks about +it to everybody. Dud is <i>so</i> enthusiastic about the +West. He is crazy to go back again—he wants +to live there. I tell him I’ll go out and try it for +a while, and if I find I can stand it, he can hang +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +out his shingle in that cow-town—what do you +call it?”</p> +<p>“Elberon?” suggested Helen.</p> +<p>“Yes—Elberon. Dud says there is a chance for +another lawyer there. And he came back here and +entered the offices of Larribee & Polk right away, +so as to get working experience, and be entered at +the bar all the sooner. But say!” exclaimed Jess, +“I believe one reason why he is so eager to go back +to the West is because <i>you</i> live there.”</p> +<p>“Oh, Miss Stone!”</p> +<p>“Do call me Jess. ‘Miss Stone’ is so stiff. +And you and I are going to be the very best of +friends.”</p> +<p>“I really hope so, Jess. But you must call me +Helen, too,” said the girl from Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>Jess leaned out from her saddle, putting the +horses so close that the trappings rubbed, and +kissed the Western girl resoundingly on the cheek.</p> +<p>“I just <i>loved</i> you!” said the warm-hearted +creature, “when Dud first told me about you. But +now that I see you in the flesh, I love you for your +very own self! I hope you’ll love me, too, Helen +Morrell—And you won’t mind if I talk a good +deal?”</p> +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-250.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 311px; height: 490px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 311px;'> +“HERE’S THE VERY NICEST GIRL WHO EVER CAME OUT OF MONTANA.”<br /> +(Page 246.)<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span></div> +<p>“Not in the least!” laughed Helen. “And I +<i>do</i> love you already. I am so, so glad that you and +Dud both like me,” she added, “for my cousins +do not like me at all, and I have been very unhappy +since coming to New York.”</p> +<p>“Here we are!” cried Jess, without noting +closely what her new friend said. “And there is +Dud waiting for us on the porch. Dear old Dud! +Whatever should I have done if you hadn’t got +him out of that tree-top, Helen?”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIII_MY_LADY_BOUNTIFUL' id='XXIII_MY_LADY_BOUNTIFUL'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<h3>MY LADY BOUNTIFUL</h3> +</div> + +<p>That was a wonderful breakfast at the Casino. +Not that Helen ever remembered much about +what she ate, although Dud had ordered choice +fruit and heartier food that would have tempted +the most jaded appetite instead of that of a healthy +girl who had been riding horseback for two hours +and a half.</p> +<p>But, it was so heartening to be with people at +the table who “talked one’s own language.” The +Stones and Helen chattered like a trio of young +crows. Dud threatened to chloroform his sister +so that he and Helen could get in a word or two +during Jess’s lapse into unconsciousness; but finally +<i>that</i> did not become necessary because of the +talkative girl’s interest in a story that Helen +related.</p> +<p>They had discussed many other topics before +this subject was broached. And it was the real +reason for Helen’s coming East to visit the +Starkweathers. “Dud” was “in the way of being +a lawyer,” as he had previously told her, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +Helen had come to realize that it was a lawyer’s +advice she needed more than anything else.</p> +<p>“Now, Jess, will you keep still long enough for +me to listen to the story of my very first client?” +demanded Dud, sternly, of his sister.</p> +<p>“Oh, I’ll stuff the napkin into my mouth! You +can gag me! Your very first client, Dud! And +it’s so interesting.”</p> +<p>“It is customary for clients to pay over a retainer; +isn’t it?” queried Helen, her eyes dancing. +“How much shall it be, Mr. Lawyer?” and she +opened her purse.</p> +<p>There was the glint of a gold piece at the bottom +of the bag. Dud flushed and reached out his +hand for it.</p> +<p>“That five dollars, Miss Helen. Thank you. +I shall never spend this coin,” declared Dud, +earnestly. “And I shall take it to a jeweler’s and +have it properly engraved.”</p> +<p>“What will you have put on it?” asked Helen, +laughing.</p> +<p>He looked at her from under level brows, smiling +yet quite serious.</p> +<p>“I shall have engraved on it ‘Snuggy, to Dud’—if +I may?” he said.</p> +<p>But Helen shook her head and although she still +smiled, she said:</p> +<p>“You’d better wait a bit, Mr. Lawyer, and see +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span> +if your advice brings about any happy conclusion +of my trouble. But you can keep the gold +piece, just the same, to remember me by.”</p> +<p>“As though I needed <i>that</i> reminder!” he cried.</p> +<p>Jess removed the corner of the napkin from between +her pretty teeth. “Get busy, do!” she +cried. “I’m dying to hear about this strange affair +you say you have come East to straighten out, +Helen.”</p> +<p>So the girl from Sunset Ranch told all her story. +Everything her father had said to her upon the +topic before his death, and all she suspected about +Fenwick Grimes and Allen Chesterton—even to +the attitude Uncle Starkweather took in the matter—she +placed before Dud Stone.</p> +<p>He gave it grave attention. Helen was not +afraid to talk plainly to him, and she held nothing +back. But at the best, her story was somewhat +disconnected and incomplete. She possessed very +few details of the crime which had been committed. +Mr. Morrell himself had been very hazy in his +statements regarding the affair.</p> +<p>“What we want first,” declared Dud, impressively, +“is to get the <i>facts</i>. Of course, at the +time, the trouble must have made some stir. It +got into the newspapers.”</p> +<p>“Oh, dear, yes,” said Helen. “And that is +what Uncle Starkweather is afraid of. He fears +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +it will get into the papers again if I make any +stir about it, and then there will be a scandal.”</p> +<p>“With his name connected with it?”</p> +<p>“Yes.”</p> +<p>“He’s dreadfully timid for his own good name; +isn’t he?” remarked Dud, sarcastically. “Well, +first of all, I’ll get the date of the occurrence and +then search the files of all the city papers. The reporters +usually get such matters pretty straight. +To misstate such business troubles is skating on +the thin ice of libel, and newspapers are careful.</p> +<p>“Well, when we have all the facts before us—what +people surmised, even, and how it looked to +‘the man on the street,’ as the saying is—then +we’ll know better how to go ahead.</p> +<p>“Are you willing to leave the matter to me, +Helen?”</p> +<p>“What did I give you a retainer for?” demanded +the girl from Sunset Ranch, smiling.</p> +<p>“True,” he replied, his own eyes dancing; +“but there is a saying among lawyers that the +feminine client does not really come to a lawyer +for advice; rather, she pays him to listen to her +talk.”</p> +<p>“Isn’t that horrid of him?” cried Jess, unable +to keep still any longer. “As though we girls +talked any more than the men do. I should say +not!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span></p> +<p>But Helen agreed to let Dud govern her future +course in trying to untangle the web of circumstance +that had driven her father out of New +York years before. As Dud said, somebody was +guilty, and that somebody was the person they +must find.</p> +<p>It encouraged Helen mightily to have someone +talk this way about the matter. A solution of +the problem seemed so imminent after she parted +from the fledgling lawyer and his sister, that +Helen determined to hasten to their conclusion certain +plans she had made, before she returned to +the West.</p> +<p>For Helen could not remain here. Her uncle’s +home was not the refined household that dear dad +had thought, in which she would be sheltered and +aided in improving herself.</p> +<p>“I might as well take board at the Zoo and +live in the bear’s den,” declared Helen, perhaps a +little harsh in her criticism. “There are no civilizing +influences in <i>that</i> house. I’d never get a +particle of ‘culture’ there. I’d rather associate +with Sing, and Jo-Rab, and the boys, and Hen +Billings.”</p> +<p>Her experience in the great city had satisfied +Helen that its life was not for her. Some things +she had learned, it was true; but most of them +were unpleasant things. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span></p> +<p>“I’d rather hire some lady to come out to Sunset +and live with me and teach me how to act +gracefully in society, and all that. There are a lot +of ‘poor, but proud’ people who would be glad +of the chance, I know.”</p> +<p>But on this day—after she had left her riding +habit at a tailor’s to be brushed and pressed, and +had made arrangements to make her changes there +whenever she wished to ride in the morning—on +this day Helen had something else to do beside +thinking of her proper introduction to society. +This was the first day it had been fit for her to +go downtown since she and Sadie Goronsky had +had their adventure with the old man whom Sadie +called “Lurcher,” but whom Fenwick Grimes had +called “Jones.”</p> +<p>Helen was deeply interested in the old man’s +case, and if he could be helped in any proper way, +she wanted to do it. Also, there was Sadie herself. +Helen believed that the Russian girl, with +her business ability and racial sharpness, could +help herself and her family much more than she +now was doing, if she had the right kind of a +chance.</p> +<p>“And I am going to give her the chance,” +Helen told herself, delightedly. “She has been, +as unselfish and kind to me—a stranger to her and +her people—as she could be. I am determined +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +that Sadie Goronsky and her family shall always +be glad that Sadie was kind to the ‘greenie’ who +hunted for Uncle Starkweather’s house on Madison +Street instead of Madison Avenue.”</p> +<p>After luncheon at the Starkweathers’ Helen +started downtown with plenty of money in her +purse. She rode to Madison Street and was but +a few minutes in reaching the Finkelstein store. +To her surprise the front of the building was covered +with big signs reading “Bankrupt Sale! +Prices Cut in Half!”</p> +<p>Sadie was not in sight. Indeed, the store was +full of excited people hauling over old Jacob +Finkelstein’s stock of goods, and no “puller-in” +was needed to draw a crowd. The salespeople +seemed to have their hands full.</p> +<p>Not seeing Sadie anywhere, Helen ventured to +mount to the Goronsky flat. Mrs. Goronsky +opened the door, recognized her visitor, and in +shrill Yiddish and broken English bade her welcome.</p> +<p>“You gome py mein house to see mein Sarah? +Sure! Gome in! Gome in! Sarah iss home to-day.”</p> +<p>“Why, see who’s here!” exclaimed Sadie, appearing +with a partly-completed hat, of the very +newest style, in her hand. “I thought the wet +weather had drowned you out.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span></p> +<p>“It kept me in,” said Helen, “for I had nothing +fit to wear out in the rain.”</p> +<p>“Well, business was so poor that Jacob had to +fail. And that always gives me a few days’ rest. +I’m glad to get ’em, believe me!”</p> +<p>“Why—why, can a man fail more than once?” +gasped Helen.</p> +<p>“He can in the clothing business,” responded +Sadie, laughing, and leading the way into the tiny +parlor. “I bet there was a crowd in there when +you come by?”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed,” agreed Helen.</p> +<p>“Sure! he’ll get rid of all the ‘stickers’ he’s +got it in the shop, and when we open again next +week for ordinary business, everything will be +fresh and new.”</p> +<p>“Oh, then, you’re really not out of a job?” +asked Helen, relieved for her friend’s sake.</p> +<p>“No. I’m all right. And you?”</p> +<p>“I came down particularly to see about that +poor old man’s spectacles,” Helen said.</p> +<p>“Then you didn’t forget about him?”</p> +<p>“No, indeed. Did you see him? Has he got +the prescription? Is it right about his eyes being +the trouble?”</p> +<p>“Sure that’s what the matter is. And he’s +dreadful poor, Helen. If he could see better he +might find some work. He wore his eyes out, he +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +told me, by writing in books. That’s a business!”</p> +<p>“Then he has the prescription.”</p> +<p>“Sure. I seen it. He’s always hoping he’d get +enough money to have the glasses. That’s all he +needs, the doctor told him. But they cost fourteen +dollars.”</p> +<p>“He shall have them!” declared Helen.</p> +<p>“You don’t mean it, Helen?” cried the Russian +girl. “You haven’t got that much money for +him?”</p> +<p>“Yes, I have. Will you go around there with +me? We’ll get the prescription and have it +filled.”</p> +<p>“Wait a bit,” said Sadie. “I want to finish +this hat. And lemme tell you—it’s right in style. +What do you think?”</p> +<p>“How wonderfully clever you are!” cried the +Western girl. “It looks as though it had just +come out of a shop.”</p> +<p>“Sure it does. I could work in a hat shop. +Only they wouldn’t pay me anything at first, and +they wouldn’t let me trim. But I know a girl +that ain’t a year older nor me what gets sixteen +dollars a week trimming in a millinery store on +Grand Street. O’ course, she ain’t the <i>madame</i>; +she’s only assistant. But sixteen dollars is a good +bunch of money to bring home on a Saturday +night—believe me!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span></p> +<p>“Is that what you’d like to do—keep a millinery +shop?” asked Helen.</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t I—just?” gasped Sadie. “Why, +Helen—I dream about it nights!”</p> +<p>Helen became suddenly interested. “Would a +little shop pay, Sadie? Could you earn your living +in a little shop of your own—say, right around +here somewhere?”</p> +<p>“Huh! I’ve had me eye on a place for months. +But it ain’t no use. You got to put up for the +rent, and the wholesalers ain’t goin’ to let a girl +like me have stock on credit. And there’s the +fixtures—Aw, well, what’s the use? It’s only a +dream.”</p> +<p>Helen was determined it should not remain +“only a dream.” But she said nothing further.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIV_THE_HAT_SHOP' id='XXIV_THE_HAT_SHOP'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<h3>THE HAT SHOP</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Them folks you’re living with must have had +a change of heart, Helen,” said Sadie Goronsky, +as the two girls sallied forth—Sadie with her new +hat set jauntily on her sleek head.</p> +<p>“Why do you say that?”</p> +<p>“If they are willing to spend fourteen dollars +on old Lurcher’s eyes.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it isn’t a member of my uncle’s family +who is furnishing the money for this charity,” +Helen replied. Sadie asked no further questions, +fortunately.</p> +<p>It was a very miserable house in which the old +man lodged. Helen’s heart ached as she beheld the +poverty and misery so evident all about her. +“Lurcher” lived on the top floor at the back—a +squalid, badly-lighted room—and alone.</p> +<p>“But a man with eyes as bad as mine don’t +really need light, you see, young ladies,” he whispered, +when Sadie had ushered herself and Helen +into the room.</p> +<p>He had tried to keep it neat; but his housekeeping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span> +arrangements were most primitive, and +cold as the weather had now become, he had no +stove save a one-wick oil stove on which he cooked +his meals—such as they were.</p> +<p>“You see,” Sadie told him, “this is my friend, +Helen, and she seen you the other day when you—you +lost that dollar, you know.”</p> +<p>“Ah, yes, wonderful bright eyes you have, Miss, +to find a dollar in the street.”</p> +<p>“Ain’t they?” cried Sadie, grinning broadly +at Helen. “Chee, it ain’t everybody that can +pick up money in the streets of New York—though +we all believed we could before we come +over here from Russia. Sure!”</p> +<p>“You see,” said Helen, softly, “I had seen you +before, Mr.—er—Lurcher. I saw you over on the +West Side that morning.”</p> +<p>“You saw me over there?” asked the old man, +yet still in a very low voice—a sort of a faded-out +voice—and he seemed not a little startled. +“You saw me over there, Miss? <i>Where</i> did you +see me?”</p> +<p>“On—on Bleecker Street,” responded Helen, +which was quite true. She saw that the man evidently +did not wish his visit to Fenwick Grimes to +be known. Perhaps he had some unpleasant connection +with the money-lender.</p> +<p>“Yes, yes!” said Lurcher, with relief. “I—I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +come through there frequently. But I have such +difficulty in seeing my way about, that I follow +a beaten path—yes! a beaten path.”</p> +<p>Helen was very curious about the old man’s +acquaintance with Fenwick Grimes. The more she +thought over her own interview with the money-lender +and mine-owner, the deeper became her +suspicion that her father’s one-time partner was +an untrustworthy man.</p> +<p>Anybody who seemed to know him better than +<i>she</i> did, naturally interested Helen. Dud Stone +had promised to find out all about Grimes, and +Helen knew that she would wait impatiently for +his report.</p> +<p>But she was interested in Lurcher for his own +miserable sake, too. He had lived by himself in +this wretched lodging for years. How he lived he +did not say; but it was evident that his income was +both infinitesimal and uncertain.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, he was not a mean-looking man, +nor were his garments unclean. They <i>were</i> +ragged. He admitted, apologetically, that he +could not see to use a needle and so “had sort o’ +got run down.”</p> +<p>“I’ll come some day soon and mend you up,” +promised Helen, when the old man gave her the +prescription he had received from the oculist at +the Eye and Ear Hospital. “And you shall have +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span> +these glasses just as soon as the lenses can be +ground.”</p> +<p>“God bless you, Miss!” said the old man, +simply.</p> +<p>He had a quiet, “listening” face, and seldom +spoke above a whisper. He was more the shadow +of a man than the substance.</p> +<p>“Ain’t that a terrible end to look forward to, +Helen?” remarked Sadie, seriously, as they descended +the stairs to the street. “He ain’t got +no friends, and no family, and no way to make a +decent livin’. They wouldn’t have the likes of +him around in offices, writin’ in books.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you mean he is a bookkeeper?” cried +Helen.</p> +<p>“Sure, I do. That’s a business! My papa is +going to be in business for himself again. And so +will I—you see! That’s the only way to get on, +and lay up something for your old age. Work +for yourself——”</p> +<p>“In a millinery store; eh?” suggested Helen, +smiling.</p> +<p>“That’s right!” declared Sadie, boldly.</p> +<p>“Where is the little store you spoke of? Do +you suppose you can ever get it, Sadie?”</p> +<p>“Don’t! You make me feel bad here,” said +Sadie, with her hand on her heart. “Say! I +just <i>ache</i> to try what I can do makin’ lids for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +East Side Four Hundred. The wholesale houses +let youse come there and work when they’re makin’ +up the season’s pattern hats, and then you can get +all the new wrinkles. Oh, I wish I was goin’ to +start next season in me own store instead of pullin’ +greenies into Papa Yawcob’s suit shop,” and the +East Side girl sighed dolefully.</p> +<p>“Let’s go see the shop you want,” suggested +Helen.</p> +<p>“Oh, dear! It don’t do no good,” said Sadie. +“But I often go out of my way to take a peek +at it.”</p> +<p>They went a little farther uptown and Helen +was shown the tiny little store which Sadie had +picked out as just the situation for a millinery +shop.</p> +<p>“Ye see, there’s other stores all around; but no +millinery. Women come here to buy other things, +and if I had that little winder full of tasty hats—Chee! +wouldn’t it pull ’em in?”</p> +<p>They stood there some minutes, while the young +East Side girl, so wise in the ways of earning a +living, so sharp of apprehension in most things, +told her whole heart to the girl who had never had +to worry about money matters at all—told it with +no suspicion that My Lady Bountiful stood by her +side.</p> +<p>She pointed out to Helen just where she would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +have her little counter, and the glass-fronted wall +cases for the trimmed hats, and the deep drawers +for “shapes,” and the little case in which to show +the flowers and buckles, and the chair and table and +mirror for the particular customers to sit at while +they were being fitted.</p> +<p>“And I’d take that hunchback girl—Rosie +Seldt—away from the millinery store on my block—she +<i>hates</i> to work on the sidewalk the way they +make her—she could help me lots. Rosie is a +smart girl with some ideas of her own. And +I’d curtain off the end of the store down there +for a workroom, and for stock—Chee, but I’d +make this place look swell!”</p> +<p>Helen, who had noted the name and address +of the rental agent on the card in the window, cut +her visit with Sadie short, so afraid was she that +she would be tempted to tell her friend of the good +fortune that was going to overtake her. For +the girl from Sunset Ranch knew just what she +was going to do.</p> +<p>Dud Stone had given her the address of the law +firm where he was to be found, and the very next +morning she went to the offices of Larribee & Polk +and saw Dud. In his hands she put a sum of +money and told him what she wished done. But +when Dud learned that the girl had the better part +of eight hundred dollars in cash with her, he took +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span> +her to a bank and made her open an account at +once.</p> +<p>“Where do you think you are—still in the wild +and woolly West where pretty near everybody you +meet is honest?” demanded Dud. “You ought +to be shaken! That money here in the big city +is a temptation to half the people you pass on the +street. Suppose one of the servants at your uncle’s +house should see it? You have no right to put +temptation in people’s way.”</p> +<p>Helen accepted his scolding meekly as long as he +did not refuse to carry out her plan for Sadie +Goronsky. When Dud heard the full particulars +of the Western girl’s acquaintanceship with Sadie, +he had no criticism to offer. That very day Dud +engaged the store, paid three months’ rent, and +bought the furnishings. Sadie was not to be told +until the store was ready for occupancy. There +was still time enough. Helen knew that the millinery +season did not open until February.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, although Helen’s goings and comings +were quite ignored by Uncle Starkweather +and the girls, some incidents connected with Helen +Morrell had begun to stir to its depth the fountain +of the family’s wrath against the girl from +Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>Twice May Van Ramsden had come to call on +Helen. Once she had brought Ruth and Mercy +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span> +De Vorne with her. And on each occasion she +had demanded that Gregson take their cards to +Helen.</p> +<p>Gregson had taken the cards up one flight and +then had sent on the cards by Maggie to Helen’s +room. Gregson said below stairs that he would +“give notice” if he were obliged to take cards +to anybody who roomed in the attic.</p> +<p>May and her friends trooped up the stairs in +the wake of their cards, however—for so it had +been arranged with Helen, who expected them on +both occasions.</p> +<p>The anger of the Starkweather family would +have been greater had they known that these calls +of their own most treasured social acquaintances +were really upon the little old lady who had been +shut away into the front attic suite, and whose existence +even was not known to some of the servants +in the Starkweather mansion.</p> +<p>May, as she had promised, was bringing, one +or two at a time, her friends who, as children when +Cornelius Starkweather was alive, had haunted +this old house because they loved old Mary Boyle. +And May was proving, too, to the Western girl, +that all New York people of wealth were neither +heartless or ungrateful. Yet the crime of forgetfulness +these young women must plead to.</p> +<p>The visits delighted Mary Boyle. Helen knew +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span> +that she slept better—after these little excitements +of the calls—and did not go pattering up +and down the halls with her crutch in the dead of +night.</p> +<p>So the days passed, each one bringing so much +of interest into the life of Helen Morrell that +she forgot to be lonely, or to bewail her lot. She +was still homesick for the ranch—when she stopped +to think about it. But she was willing to wait a +while longer before she flitted homeward to Big +Hen and the boys.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXV_THE_MISSING_LINK' id='XXV_THE_MISSING_LINK'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<h3>THE MISSING LINK</h3> +</div> + +<p>Helen met Dud Stone and his sister on the +bridle-path one morning by particular invitation. +The message had come to the house for her late +the evening before and had been put into the +trusty hand of old Lawdor, the butler. Dud had +learned the particulars of the old embezzlement +charge against Prince Morrell.</p> +<p>“I’ve got here in typewriting the reports from +three papers—everything they had to say about +it for the several weeks that it was kept alive as a +news story. It was not so great a crime that the +metropolitan papers were likely to give much +space to it,” Dud said.</p> +<p>“You can read over the reports at your leisure, +if you like. But the main points for us to know are +these:</p> +<p>“In the two banks were, in the names of Morrell +& Grimes, something over thirty-three thousand +dollars. Either partner could draw the +money. The missing bookkeeper could <i>not</i> draw +the money. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p> +<p>“The checks came to the banks in the course of +the day’s business, and neither teller could swear +that he actually remembered giving the money to +Mr. Morrell; yet because the checks were signed in +his name, and apparently in his handwriting, they +both ‘thought’ it must have been Mr. Morrell +who presented the checks.</p> +<p>“Now, mind you, Fenwick Grimes had gone off +on a business trip of some duration, and Allen +Chesterton had disappeared several days before +the checks were drawn and the money removed +from the banks.</p> +<p>“It was hinted by one ingenious police reporter +that the bookkeeper was really the guilty man. He +even raked up some story of the man at his lodgings +which intimated that Chesterton had some art +as an actor. Parts of disguises were found abandoned +at his empty rooms. This suggestion was +made: That Chesterton was a forger and had disguised +himself as Mr. Morrell so as to cash the +checks without question. Then Fenwick Grimes +returned and discovered that the bank balances +were gone.</p> +<p>“At first your father was no more suspected than +was Grimes himself. Then, one paper printed an +article intimating that your father, the senior partner +of the firm, might be the criminal. You see, +the bank tellers had been interviewed. Before that +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +the suggestion that by any possibility Mr. Morrell +was guilty had been scouted. But the next day it +was learned your father and mother had gone +away. Immediately the bookkeeper was forgotten +and the papers all seemed to agree that Prince +Morrell had really stolen the money.</p> +<p>“Oddly enough the creditors made little trouble +at first. Your Uncle Starkweather was mentioned +as having been a silent partner in the concern +and having lost heavily himself——”</p> +<p>“Poor dad was able to pay Uncle Starkweather +first of all—years and years ago,” interposed +Helen.</p> +<p>“Ah! and Grimes? Do you know if he made +any claim on your father at any time?”</p> +<p>“I think not. You see, he was freed of all debt +almost at once through bankruptcy. Mr. Grimes +really had a very small financial interest in the +firm. Dad said he was more like a confidential +clerk. Both he and Uncle Starkweather considered +Grimes a very good asset to the firm, although +he had no money to put into it. That is the way +it was told to me.”</p> +<p>“And very probable. This Grimes is notoriously +sharp,” said Dud, reflectively. “And right +after he went through bankruptcy he began to do +business as a money-lender. Supposedly he lent +other people’s money; but he is now worth a million, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +or more. Question is: Where did he get his +start in business after the robbery and the failure +of Grimes & Morrell?”</p> +<p>“Oh, Dud!”</p> +<p>“Don’t you suspect him, too?” demanded the +young man.</p> +<p>“I—I am prejudiced, I fear.”</p> +<p>“So am I,” agreed Dud, with a grim chuckle. +“I’m going after that man Grimes. It’s funny he +should go into business with a mysterious capital +right after the old firm was closed out, when before +that he had had no money to invest in the firm +of which he was a member.”</p> +<p>“I feared as much,” sighed Helen. “And he was +so eager to throw suspicion on the lost bookkeeper, +just to satisfy my curiosity and put me off the track. +He’s as bad as Uncle Starkweather. <i>He</i> doesn’t +want me to go ahead because of the possible scandal, +and Mr. Grimes is afraid for his own sake, +I very much fear. What a wicked man he +must be!”</p> +<p>“Possibly,” said Dud, eyeing the girl sharply. +“Have you told me all your uncle has said to +you about the affair?”</p> +<p>“I think so, Dud. Why?”</p> +<p>“Well, nothing much. Only, in hunting +through the files of the newspapers for articles +about the troubles of Grimes & Morrell I came +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +across the statement that Mr. Starkweather was +in financial difficulties about the same time. <i>He</i> +settled with his creditors for forty cents on the +dollar. This was before your uncle came into <i>his</i> +uncle’s fortune, of course, and went to live on +Madison Avenue.”</p> +<p>“Well—is that significant?” asked the girl, +puzzled.</p> +<p>“I don’t know that it is. But there is something +you mentioned just now that <i>is</i> of importance.”</p> +<p>“What is that, Dud?”</p> +<p>“Why, the bookkeeper—Allen Chesterton. +He’s the missing link. If we could get him I believe +the truth would easily be learned. In one +newspaper story of the Grimes & Morrell trouble, +it was said that Grimes and Chesterton had +been close friends at one time—had roomed together +in the very house from which the bookkeeper +seemed to have fled a couple of days before +the embezzlement was discovered.”</p> +<p>“Would detectives be able to pick up any clue +to the missing man—and missing link?” asked +Helen, thoughtfully.</p> +<p>“It’s a cold trail,” Dud observed, shaking his +head.</p> +<p>“I don’t mind spending some money. I can +send to Big Hen for more——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span></p> +<p>“Of course you can. I don’t believe you realize +how rich you are, Helen.”</p> +<p>“I—I never had to think about it.”</p> +<p>“No. But about hiring a detective. I hate to +waste money. Wait a few days and see if I can +get on the blind side of Mr. Grimes in some way.”</p> +<p>So the matter rested; but it was Helen herself +who made the first discovery which seemed to point +to a weak place in Fenwick Grimes’s armor.</p> +<p>Helen had been once to the poor lodging of +Mr. Lurcher to “mend him up”; for she was a +good little needlewoman and she knew she could +make the old fellow look neater. He had got his +glasses, and at first could only wear them a part +of the day. The doctor at the hospital gave him +an ointment for his eyelids, too, and he was on +a fair road to recovery.</p> +<p>“I can cobble shoes pretty good, Miss,” he +said. “And there is work to be had at that industry +in several shops in the neighborhood. Once +I was a clerk; but all that is past, of course.”</p> +<p>Helen did not propose to let the old fellow suffer; +but just yet she did not wish to do anything +further for him, or Sadie might suspect that her +friend, Helen, was something different from the +poor girl Sadie thought she was.</p> +<p>After the above interview with Dud, Helen +went downtown to see Sadie again; and she ran +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span> +around the corner to spend a few minutes with +Mr. Lurcher. As she went up the stairs she +passed a man coming down. It was dark, and she +could not see the person clearly. Yet Helen realized +that the individual eyed her sharply, and even +stopped and came part way up the stairs again to +see where she went.</p> +<p>When she came down to the street again she +was startled by almost running into Mr. Grimes, +who was passing the house.</p> +<p>“What! what! what!” he snapped, staring at +her. “What brings you down in <i>this</i> neighborhood? +A nice place for Mr. Willets Starkweather’s +niece to be seen in. I warrant he doesn’t +know where you are?”</p> +<p>“You are quite right, Mr. Grimes,” Helen returned, +quietly.</p> +<p>“What are you doing here?” asked Grimes, +rather rudely.</p> +<p>“Visiting friends,” replied Helen, without further +explanation.</p> +<p>“You’re still trying to rake up that old trouble +of your father’s?” demanded Grimes, scowling.</p> +<p>“Not down here,” returned Helen, with a +quiet smile. “That is sure. But I <i>am</i> doing +what I can to learn all the particulars of the affair. +Mr. Van Ramsden was a creditor and father’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +friend, and his daughter tells me that <i>he</i> will do +all in his power to help me.”</p> +<p>“Ha! Van Ramsden! Well, it’s little you’ll +ever find out through <i>him</i>. Well! you’d much +better have let me do as I suggested and cleared +up the whole story in the newspapers,” growled +Grimes. “Now, now! Where’s that clerk of +mine, I wonder? He was to meet me here.”</p> +<p>And he went muttering along the walk; but +Helen stood still and gazed after him in some bewilderment. +For it dawned on the girl that the +man who had passed her as she went up to see old +Mr. Lurcher, or “Jones,” was Leggett, Fenwick +Grimes’s confidential man.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVI_THEIR_EYES_ARE_OPENED' id='XXVI_THEIR_EYES_ARE_OPENED'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<h3>THEIR EYES ARE OPENED</h3> +</div> + +<p>As her cousins were not at all interested in what +became of Helen during the day, neither was +Helen interested in how the three Starkweather +girls occupied their time. But on this particular +afternoon, while Helen was visiting Lurcher, and +chatting with Sadie Goronsky on the sidewalk in +front of the Finkelstein shop, she would have been +deeply interested in what interested the Starkweather +girls.</p> +<p>All three chanced to be in the drawing-room +when Gregson came past the door in his stiffest +manner, holding the tray with a single card on it.</p> +<p>“Who is it, Gregson?” asked Belle. “I heard +the bell ring. Somebody to see me?”</p> +<p>“No, mem, it his not,” declared the footman.</p> +<p>“Me?” said Hortense, holding out her hand. +“Who is it, I wonder?”</p> +<p>“Nor is hit for you, mem,” repeated Gregson.</p> +<p>“It can’t be for <i>me</i>?” cried Flossie.</p> +<p>But before the footman could speak again, Belle +rose majestically and crossed the room. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span></p> +<p>“I believe I know what it is,” she said, angrily. +“And it is going to stop. You were going to take +the card upstairs, Gregson?”</p> +<p>“No, mem!” said Gregson, somewhat heated. +“Hi do not carry cards above the second floor.”</p> +<p>“It’s somebody to see Helen!” cried Flossie, +clapping her hands softly and enjoying her older +sister’s rage.</p> +<p>“Give it to me!” exclaimed Belle, snatching the +card from the tray. She turned toward her sisters +to read it. But when her eye lit upon the +name she was for the moment surprised out of +speech.</p> +<p>“Goodness me! who is it?” gasped Hortense.</p> +<p>“Jessie Stone—‘Miss Jessie Dolliver Stone.’ +Goodness me!” whispered Belle.</p> +<p>“Not the Stones of Riverside Drive—<i>the</i> +Stones?” from Hortense.</p> +<p>“Dud Stone’s sister?” exclaimed Flossie.</p> +<p>“And Dud Stone is the very nicest boy I ever +met,” quoth Hortense, clasping her hands.</p> +<p>“I know Miss Jessie. Jess, they all call her. +I saw her on the Westchester Links only last week +and she never said a word about this.”</p> +<p>“About coming to see Helen—it isn’t possible!” +cried Hortense. “Gregson, you have +made a mistake.”</p> +<p>“Hi beg your pardon—no, mem. She asked +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span> +for Miss Helen. I left ’er in the reception parlor, +mem——”</p> +<p>“She thinks one of us is named Helen!” cried +Belle, suddenly. “Show her up, Gregson.”</p> +<p>Gregson might have told her different; but he +saw it would only involve him in more explanation; +therefore he turned on his heel and in his +usual stately manner went to lead Dud Stone’s +sister into the presence of the three excited girls.</p> +<p>Jessie by no means understood the situation at +the Starkweather house between Helen and her +cousins. It had never entered Miss Stone’s head, +in fact, that anybody could be unkind to, or dislike, +“such a nice little thing as Helen Morrell.”</p> +<p>So she greeted the Starkweather girls in her +very frankest manner.</p> +<p>“I really am delighted to see you again, Miss +Starkweather,” Jess said, being met by Belle at the +door. “And are these your sisters? I’m charmed, +I am sure.”</p> +<p>Hortense and Flossie were introduced. The +girls sat down.</p> +<p>“You don’t mean to say Helen isn’t here?” +demanded Jess. “I came particularly to invite her +to dinner to-morrow night. We’re going to have +a little celebration and Dud and I are determined +to have her with us.”</p> +<p>“Helen?” gasped Belle. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p> +<p>“Not Helen Morrell?” demanded Hortense.</p> +<p>“Why, yes—of course—your Cousin Helen. +How funny! Of course she’s here? She lives +with you; doesn’t she?”</p> +<p>“Why—er—we have a—a distant relative of +poor mamma’s by that name,” said Belle, haughtily. +“She—she came here quite unexpectedly—er quite +uninvited, I may say. Pa is <i>so-o</i> easy, +you know; he won’t send her away——”</p> +<p>“Send her away! Send Helen Morrell away?” +gasped Jess Stone. “Are—are we talking about +the same girl, I wonder? Why, Helen is a most +charming girl—and pretty as a picture. And +brave no end!</p> +<p>“Why, it was she who saved my brother’s life +when he was away out West——”</p> +<p>“Mr. Stone never went to Montana?” cried +Flossie. “He never met Helen at Sunset +Ranch?”</p> +<p>“Be still, Floss!” commanded Belle; but Miss +Stone turned to answer the younger girl.</p> +<p>“Of course. Dud stopped at the ranch some +days, too. He had to, for he hurt his foot. That’s +when Helen saved his life. He was flung from +the back of a horse over the edge of a cliff and +fortunately landed in the top of a tree.</p> +<p>“But the tree was very tall and he could not +have gotten out of it safely with his wounded foot +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +had not Helen ridden up to the brink of the precipice, +thrown him a rope, and swung him out of +the tree upon a ledge of rock. Then he worked +his way down the side of the cliff while Helen +caught his horse. But his foot hurt him so that +he could never have got into the saddle alone; +and Helen put him on her own pony and led +the pony to the ranch house.”</p> +<p>“Bully for Helen!” ejaculated Flossie, under +her breath. Even Hortense was flushed a bit +over the story. But Belle could see nothing to admire +in her cousin from the West, and she only +said, harshly:</p> +<p>“Very likely, Miss Stone. Helen seems to be +a veritable hoyden. These ranch girls are so unfortunate +in their bringing up and their environment. +In the wilds I presume Helen may be passable; +but she is quite, quite impossible here in the +city——”</p> +<p>“I don’t know what you mean by being ‘impossible,’” +interrupted Jess Stone. “She is a +lovely girl.”</p> +<p>“You haven’t met her?” cried Belle. “It’s +only Mr. Stone’s talk.”</p> +<p>“I certainly <i>have</i> met her, Miss Starkweather. +Certainly I know her—and know her well. Had +I known when she was coming to New York I +would have begged her to come to us. It is plain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +that her own relatives do not care much for Helen +Morrell,” said the very frank young lady.</p> +<p>“Well—we—er——”</p> +<p>“Why, Helen has been meeting me in the bridle-path +almost every morning. And she rides wonderfully.”</p> +<p>“Riding in Central Park!” cried Hortense.</p> +<p>“Why—why, the child has nothing decent to +wear,” declared Belle. “How could she get a +riding habit—or hire a horse? I do not understand +this, Miss Stone, but I can tell you right +now, that Helen has nothing fit to wear to your +dinner party. She came here a little pauper—with +nothing fit to wear in her trunk. Pa <i>did</i> +find money enough for a new street dress and hat +for her; but he did not feel that he could support +in luxury every pauper who came here and claimed +relationship with him.”</p> +<p>Miss Stone’s mouth fairly hung open, and her +eyes were as round as eyes could be, with wonder +and surprise.</p> +<p>“What is this you tell me?” she murmured. +“Helen Morrell a pauper?”</p> +<p>“I presume those people out there in Montana +wanted to get the girl off their hands,” said Belle, +coldly, “and merely shipped her East, hoping that +Pa would make provision for her. She has been a +great source of annoyance to us, I do assure you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></p> +<p>“A source of annoyance?” repeated the caller.</p> +<p>“And why not? Without a rag decent to wear. +With no money. Scarcely education enough to +make herself intelligibly understood——”</p> +<p>Flossie began to giggle. But Jessie Stone rose +to her feet. This volatile, talkative girl could be +very dignified when she was aroused.</p> +<p>“You are speaking of <i>my</i> friend, Helen Morrell,” +she interrupted Belle’s flow of angry language, +sternly. “Whether she is your cousin, or +not, she is <i>my</i> friend, and I will not listen to you +talk about her in that way. Besides, you must be +crazy if you believe your own words! Helen Morrell +poor! Helen Morrell uneducated!</p> +<p>“Why, Helen was four years in one of the best +preparatory schools of the West—in Denver. Let +me tell you that Denver is some city, too. And +as for being poor and having nothing to wear—Why, +whatever can you mean? She owns one of +the few big ranches left in the West, with thousands +upon thousands of cattle and horses upon +it. And her father left her all that, and perhaps a +quarter of a million in cash or investments beside.”</p> +<p>“Not Helen?” shrieked Belle, sitting down +very suddenly.</p> +<p>“Little Helen—<i>rich</i>?” murmured Hortense.</p> +<p>“Does Helen really <i>own</i> Sunset Ranch?” cried +Flossie, eagerly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span></p> +<p>“She certainly does—every acre of it. Why, +Dud knows all about her and all about her affairs. +If you consider that girl poor and uneducated you +have fooled yourselves nicely.”</p> +<p>“I’m glad of it! I’m glad of it!” exclaimed +Flossie, clapping her hands and pirouetting about +the room. “Serves you right, Belle! <i>I</i> found out +she knew a whole lot more than I did, long ago. +She’s been helping me with my lessons.”</p> +<p>“And she <i>is</i> a nice little thing,” joined in Hortense, +“I don’t care what you say to the contrary, +Belle. She was the only one in this house that +showed me any real sympathy when I was sick——”</p> +<p>Belle only looked at her sisters, but could say +nothing.</p> +<p>“And if Helen hasn’t anything fit to wear to +your party to-morrow night, I will lend her something,” +declared Hortense.</p> +<p>“You need not bother,” said Jess, scornfully. +“If Helen came in the plainest and most miserable +frock to be found she would be welcome. +Good-day to you, Miss Starkweather—and Miss +Hortense—and Miss Flossie.”</p> +<p>She swept out of the room and did not even +need the gorgeous Gregson to show her to the +door.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVII_THE_PARTY' id='XXVII_THE_PARTY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<h3>THE PARTY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Helen chanced that evening to be entering the +area door just as Mr. Starkweather himself was +mounting the steps of the mansion. Her uncle +recognized the girl and scowled over the balustrade +at her.</p> +<p>“Come to the den at once; I wish to speak to +you Helen—Ahem!” he said in his most severe +tones.</p> +<p>“Yes, sir,” responded the girl respectfully, and +she passed up the back stairway while Mr. Starkweather +went directly to his library. Therefore +he did not chance to meet either of his daughters +and so was not warned of what had occurred +in the house that afternoon.</p> +<p>“Helen,” said Uncle Starkweather, viewing her +with the same stern look when she approached his +desk. “I must know how you have been using +your time while outside of my house? Something +has reached my ear which greatly—ahem!—displeases +me.”</p> +<p>“Why—I—I——” The girl was really at a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +loss what to say. She did not know what he was +driving at and she doubted the advisability of +telling Uncle Starkweather everything that she +had done while here in the city as his guest.</p> +<p>“I was told this afternoon—not an hour ago—that +you have been seen lurking about the most +disreputable parts of the city. That you are a +frequenter of low tenement houses; that you associate +with foreigners and the most disgusting of +beggars——”</p> +<p>“I wish you would stop, Uncle,” said Helen, +quickly, her face flushing now and her eyes sparkling. +“Sadie Goronsky is a nice girl, and her +family is respectable. And poor old Mr. Lurcher +is only unfortunate and half-blind. He will not +harm me.”</p> +<p>“Beggars! Yiddish shoestring pedlars! A +girl like you! Where—ahem!—<i>where</i> did you +ever get such low tastes, girl?”</p> +<p>“Don’t blame yourself, Uncle,” said Helen, +with some bitterness. “I certainly did not learn +to be kind to poor people from <i>your</i> example. +And I am sure I have gained no harm from being +with them once in a while—only good. To help +them a little has helped me—I assure you!”</p> +<p>But Mr. Starkweather listened not at all to this. +“Where did you find these low companions?” he +demanded. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span></p> +<p>“I met Sadie the night I arrived here in the +city. The taxicab driver carried me to Madison +Street instead of Madison Avenue. Sadie was kind +to me. As for old Mr. Lurcher, I saw him first +in Mr. Grimes’s office.”</p> +<p>Uncle Starkweather suddenly lost his color and +fell back in his chair. For a moment or two he +seemed unable to speak at all. Then he stammered:</p> +<p>“In Fenwick Grimes’s office?”</p> +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> +<p>“What—what was this—ahem!—this beggar +doing there?”</p> +<p>“If he is a beggar, perhaps he was begging. At +least, Mr. Grimes seemed very anxious to get rid +of him, and gave him a dollar to go away.”</p> +<p>“And you followed him?” gasped Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>“No. I went to see Sadie, and it seems Mr. +Lurcher lives right in that neighborhood. I found +he needed spectacles and was half-blind and +I——”</p> +<p>“Tell me nothing more about it! Nothing +more about it!” commanded her uncle, holding up +a warning hand. “I will not—ahem!—listen. +This has gone too far. I gave you shelter—an act +of charity, girl! And you have abused my confidence +by consorting with low company, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +spending your time in a mean part of the town.”</p> +<p>“You are wrong, sir. I have done nothing of +the kind,” said Helen, firmly, but growing angry +herself, now. “My friends are decent people, and +a poor part of the city does not necessarily mean +a criminal part.”</p> +<p>“Hush! How dare you contradict me?” demanded +her uncle. “You shall go home. You +shall go back to the West at once! Ahem! At +once. I could not assume the responsibility of your +presence here in my house any longer.”</p> +<p>“Then I will find a position and support myself, +Uncle Starkweather. I have told you I could +do that before.”</p> +<p>“No, indeed!” exclaimed Mr. Starkweather, +at once. “I will not allow it. You are not to +be trusted in this city. I shall send you back to +that place you came from—ahem!—Sunset Ranch, +is it? That is the place for a girl like you.”</p> +<p>“But, Uncle——”</p> +<p>“No more! I will listen to nothing else from +you,” he declared, harshly. “I shall purchase +your ticket through to-morrow, and the next day +you must go. Ahem! Remember that I <i>will</i> be +obeyed.”</p> +<p>Helen looked at him with tear-dimmed eyes for +fully a minute. But he said no more and his stern +countenance, as well as his unkind words and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +tone, repelled her. She put out her hand once, as +though to speak, but he turned away, scornfully.</p> +<p>It was her last attempt to soften him toward +her. He might then, had he not been so selfish +and haughty, have made his peace with the girl +and saved himself much trouble and misery in the +end. But he ignored her, and Helen, crying +softly, left the room and stole up to her own place +in the attic.</p> +<p>She could not see anybody that evening, and so +did not go down to dinner. Later, to her amazement, +Maggie came to her door with a tray piled +high with good things—a very elaborate repast, +indeed. But Helen was too heartsick to eat much, +although she did not refuse the attention—which +she laid to the kindness of Lawdor, the butler.</p> +<p>But for once she was mistaken. The tray of +food did not come from Lawdor. Nor was it the +outward semblance of anybody’s kindness. The +tray delivered at Helen’s door was the first result +of a great fright!</p> +<p>At dinner the girls could not wait for their father +to be seated before they began to tell him of +the amazing thing that had been revealed to them +that afternoon by Jessie Stone.</p> +<p>“Where’s Cousin Helen, Gregson?” asked +Belle, before seating herself. “See that she is +called. She may not have heard the gong.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span></p> +<p>If Gregson’s face could display surprise, it displayed +it then.</p> +<p>“Of course, dear Helen has returned; hasn’t +she?” added Hortense.</p> +<p>“I’ll go up myself and see if she’s here,” Flossie +suggested.</p> +<p>“Ahem!” said the surprised Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>“I listened sharply for her, but I did not hear +her pass my door,” said Hortense.</p> +<p>“I must ask her to come back to that spare room +on the lower floor,” sighed Belle. “She is too +far away from the rest of the family.”</p> +<p>“Girls!” gasped Mr. Starkweather, at length +finding speech.</p> +<p>“Oh, you needn’t explode, Pa!” ejaculated +Belle. “We are aware of something about Helen +that changes the complexion of affairs entirely.”</p> +<p>“What does this mean?” demanded Mr. +Starkweather, blankly. “Something about +Helen?”</p> +<p>“Yes, indeed, Pa,” said Flossie, spiritedly. +“Who do you suppose owns that Sunset Ranch +she talks about?”</p> +<p>“And who do you suppose is worth a quarter of +a million dollars—more than <i>you</i> are worth, Pa, +I declare?” cried Hortense.</p> +<p>“Girls!” exclaimed Belle. “That is very low. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +If we have made a mistake regarding Cousin +Helen, of course it can be adjusted. But we need +not be vulgar enough to say <i>why</i> we change +toward her.”</p> +<p>Mr. Starkweather thumped upon the table with +the handle of his knife.</p> +<p>“Girls!” he commanded. “I will have this +explained. What do you mean?”</p> +<p>Out it came then—in a torrent. Three girls +can do a great deal of talking in a few minutes—especially +if they all talk at once.</p> +<p>But Mr. Starkweather got the gist of it. He +understood what it all meant, and he realized what +it meant to <i>him</i>, as well, better than his daughters +could.</p> +<p>Prince Morrell, whom he had always considered +a bit of a fool, and therefore had not even +inquired about after he left for the West, had died +a rich man. He had left this only daughter, who +was an heiress to great wealth. And he, Willets +Starkweather, had allowed the chance of a lifetime +to slip through his fingers!</p> +<p>If he had only made inquiries about the girl and +her circumstances! He might have done that when +he learned that Mr. Morrell was dead. When +Helen had told him her father wished her to be in +the care of her mother’s relatives, Mr. Starkweather +could have then taken warning and learned +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span> +the girl’s true circumstances. He had not even +accepted her confidences. Why, he might have +been made the guardian of the girl, and handled all +her fortune!</p> +<p>These thoughts and a thousand others raced +through the scheming brain of the man. Could +he correct his fault at this late date? If he had +only known of this that his daughters had learned +from Jess Stone, before he had taken Helen to +task as he had that very evening!</p> +<p>Fenwick Grimes had telephoned to him at his +office. Something Mr. Grimes had said—and he had +not seen Mr. Grimes nor talked personally with +him for years—had put Mr. Starkweather into a +great fright. He had decided that the only safe +place for Helen Morrell was back in the West—he +supposed with the poor and ignorant people on +the ranch where her father had worked.</p> +<p>Where Prince Morrell had <i>worked</i>! Why, if +Morrell had owned Sunset Ranch, Helen was one +of the wealthiest heiresses in the whole Western +country. Mr. Starkweather had asked a few questions +about Sunset Ranch of men who knew. But, +as the owner had never given himself any publicity, +the name of Morrell was never connected +with it.</p> +<p>While the three girls chattered over the details +of the story Mr. Starkweather merely played with +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span> +his food, and sat staring into a corner of the room. +He was trying to scheme his way out of the difficulty—the +dangerous difficulty, indeed—in which +he found himself.</p> +<p>So, his first move was characteristic. He sent +the tray upstairs to Helen. But none of the family +saw Helen again that night.</p> +<p>However, there was another caller. This was +May Van Ramsden. She did not ask for Helen, +however, but for Mr. Starkweather himself, and +that gentleman came graciously into the room +where May was sitting with the three much excited +sisters.</p> +<p>Belle and Hortense and Flossie were bubbling +over with the desire to ask Miss Van Ramsden if +<i>she</i> knew that Helen was a rich girl and not a poor +one. But there was no opportunity. The caller +broached the reason for her visit at once, when she +saw Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>“We are going to ask a great favor of you, sir,” +she said, shaking hands. “And it does seem like +a very great impudence on our part. But please +remember that, as children, we were all very +much attached to her. You see,” pursued Miss +Van Ramsden, “there are the De Vorne girls, and +Jo and Nat Paisley, and Adeline Schenk, and +some of the Blutcher boys and girls—although the +younger ones were born in Europe—and Sue Livingstone, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +and Crayton Ballou. Oh! there really +is a score or more.”</p> +<p>“Ahem!” said Mr. Starkweather, not only +solemnly, but reverently. These were names he +worshipped. He could have refused such young +people nothing—nothing!—and would have told +Miss Van Ramsden so had what she said next not +stricken him dumb for the time.</p> +<p>“You see, some of us have called on Nurse +Boyle, and found her so bright and so delighted +with our coming, that we want to give her a little +tea-party to-morrow afternoon. It would be so +delightful to have her greet the girls and boys +who used to be such friends of hers in the time of +Mr. Cornelius, right up there in those cunning +rooms of hers.</p> +<p>“We always used to see her in the nursery +suite, and there are the same furniture, and hangings, +and pictures, and all. And Nurse Boyle +herself is just the same—only a bit older—Ah! +girls!” she added, turning suddenly to the three +sisters, “you don’t know what it means to have +been cared for, and rocked, and sung to, when +you were ill, perhaps, by Mary Boyle! You +missed a great deal in not having a Mary Boyle in +your family.”</p> +<p>“<i>Mary Boyle!</i>” gasped Mr. Starkweather.</p> +<p>“Yes. Can we all come to see her to-morrow +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +afternoon? I am sure if you tell Mrs. Olstrom, +your housekeeper will attend to all the arrangements. +Helen knows about it, and she’ll help pour +the tea. Mary thinks there is nobody quite like +Helen.”</p> +<p>These shocks were coming too fast for Mr. +Starkweather. Had anything further occurred +that evening to torment him it is doubtful if he +would have got through it as gracefully as he did +through this call. May Van Ramsden went away +assured that no obstacle would be placed in the +way of Mary Boyle’s party in the attic. But +neither Mr. Starkweather, nor his three daughters, +could really look straight into each other’s faces +for the remainder of that evening. And they were +all four remarkably silent, despite the exciting +things that had so recently occurred to disturb +them.</p> +<p>In the morning Helen got an invitation from +Jess Stone to dinner that evening. She said “come +just as you are”; but she did not tell Helen that +she had innocently betrayed her true condition to +the Starkweathers. Helen wrote a long reply and +sent it by special messenger through old Lawdor, +the butler. Then she prepared for the tea in Mary +Boyle’s rooms.</p> +<p>At breakfast time Helen met the family for the +first time since the explosion. Self-consciousness +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span> +troubled the countenances and likewise the manner +of Mr. Starkweather and his three daughters.</p> +<p>“Ahem! A very fine morning, Helen. Have +you been out for your usual ramble, my dear?”</p> +<p>“How-do, Helen? Hope you’re feeling quite +fit.”</p> +<p>“Dear me, Helen! How pretty your hair is, +child. You must show me how you do it in that +simple way.”</p> +<p>But Flossie was more honest. She only nodded +to Helen at first. Then, when Gregson was out +of the room, she jumped up, went around the table +swiftly, and caught the Western girl about the +neck.</p> +<p>“Helen! I’m just as ashamed of myself as I +can be!” she cried, her tears flowing copiously. +“I treated you so mean all the time, and you have +been so very, very decent about helping me in my +lessons. Forgive me; will you? Oh, please say +you will!”</p> +<p>Helen kissed her warmly. “Nothing to forgive, +Floss,” she said, a little bruskly, perhaps. +“Don’t let’s speak about it.”</p> +<p>She merely bowed and said a word in reply to +the others. Nor could Mr. Starkweather’s unctuous +conversation arouse her interest.</p> +<p>“You have a part in the very worthy effort to +liven up old Nurse Boyle, I understand?” said +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +Mr. Starkweather, graciously. “Is there anything +needed that I can have sent in, Helen?”</p> +<p>“Oh, no, sir. I am only helping Miss Van +Ramsden,” Helen replied, timidly.</p> +<p>“I think May Van Ramsden should have told +<i>me</i> of her plans,” said Belle, tossing her head.</p> +<p>“Or, <i>me</i>,” rejoined Hortense.</p> +<p>“Pah!” snapped Flossie. “None of us ever +cared a straw for the old woman. Queer old thing. +I thought she was more than a little cracked.”</p> +<p>“Flossie!” ejaculated Mr. Starkweather, +angrily, “unless you can speak with more respect +for—ahem!—for a faithful old servitor of the +Starkweather family, I shall have to—ahem!—ask +you to leave the table.”</p> +<p>“You won’t have to ask me—I’m going!” exclaimed +Flossie, flirting out of her chair and picking +up her books. “But I want to say one thing +while I’m on my way,” observed the slangy +youngster: “You’re all just as tiresome as you can +be! Why don’t you own up that you’d never have +given the old woman a thought if it wasn’t for +May Van Ramsden and her friends—and Helen?” +and she beat a retreat in quick order.</p> +<p>It was an unpleasant breakfast for Helen, and +she retired from the table as soon as she could. +She felt that this attitude of the Starkweathers +toward her was really more unhappy than their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span> +former treatment. For she somehow suspected +that this overpowering kindness was founded upon +a sudden discovery that she was a rich girl instead +of an object of charity. How well-founded this +suspicion was she learned when she and Jess met.</p> +<p>Hortense brought her up two very elaborate +frocks that forenoon, one for her to wear when she +poured tea in Mary Boyle’s rooms, and the +other for her to put on for the Stones’ dinner +party.</p> +<p>“They will just about fit you. I’m a mite taller, +but that won’t matter,” said the languid Hortense. +“And really, Helen, I am just as sorry as I can be +for the mean way you have been treated while +you have been here. You have been so good-natured, +too, in helping a chap. Hope you won’t +hold it against me—and <i>do</i> wear the dresses, +dear.”</p> +<p>“I will put on this one for the afternoon,” said +Helen, smiling. “But I do not need the evening +dress. I never wore one quite—quite like that, +you see,” as she noted the straps over the shoulders +and the low corsage. “But I thank you just +the same.”</p> +<p>Later Belle said to her airily: “Dear Cousin +Helen! I have spoken to Gustaf about taking you +to the Stones’ in the limousine to-night. And he +will call for you at any hour you say.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span></p> +<p>“I cannot avail myself of that privilege, Belle,” +responded Helen, quietly. “Jess will send for me +at half-past six. She has already arranged to do +so. Thank you.”</p> +<p>There was so much going on above stairs that +day that Helen was able to escape most of the +oppressive attentions of her cousins. Great baskets +of flowers were sent in by some of the young +people who remembered and loved Mary Boyle, +and Helen helped to arrange them in the little +old lady’s rooms.</p> +<p>Tea things for a score of people came in, too. +And cookies and cakes from the caterer’s. At +three o’clock, or a little after, the callers began +to arrive. Belle, and Hortense, and Flossie received +them in the reception hall, had them remove +their cloaks below stairs, and otherwise tried to +make it appear that the function was really of their +own planning.</p> +<p>But nobody invited either of the Starkweather +girls upstairs to Mary Boyle’s rooms. Perhaps +it was an oversight. But it certainly <i>did</i> look as +though they had been forgotten.</p> +<p>But the party on the attic floor was certainly a +success. How pretty the little old lady looked, +sitting in state with all the young and blooming +faces about her! Here were growing up into +womanhood and manhood (for some of the boys +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +had not been ashamed to come) the children whom +she had tended and played with and sung to.</p> +<p>And she sung to them again—verses of forgotten +songs, lullabies she had crooned over some of +their cradles when they were ill, little broken +chants that had sent many of them, many times, to +sleep.</p> +<p>Altogether it was a most enjoyable afternoon, +and Nurse Boyle was promised that it should not +be the last tea-party she would have. “If you are +’way up here in the top of the house, you shall no +more be forgotten,” they told her.</p> +<p>Helen was the object next in interest to Nurse +Boyle. May Van Ramsden had told about the +Starkweathers’ little “Cinderella Cousin”; and although +none of these girls and boys who had gathered +knew the truth about Helen’s wealth and +her position in life, they all treated her cordially.</p> +<p>When they trooped away and left the little old +lady to lie down to recuperate after the excitement, +Helen went to her own room, and remained +closely shut up for the rest of the day.</p> +<p>At half-past six she came downstairs, bag in +hand. She descended the servants’ staircase, told +Mr. Lawdor that her trunk, packed and locked, +was ready for the expressman when he came, and +so stole out of the area door. She escaped any +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +interview with her uncle, or with the girls. She +could not bid them good-by, yet she was determined +not to go back to Sunset Ranch on the +morrow, nor would she remain another night under +her uncle’s roof.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXVIII_A_STATEMENT_OF_FACT' id='XXVIII_A_STATEMENT_OF_FACT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<h3>A STATEMENT OF FACT</h3> +</div> + +<p>Dud Stone had that very day seen the fixtures +put into the little millinery store downtown, and it +was ready for Sadie Goronsky to take charge; +there being a fund of two hundred dollars to +Sadie’s credit at a nearby bank, with which she +could buy stock and pay her running expenses for +the first few weeks.</p> +<p>Yet Sadie didn’t know a thing about it.</p> +<p>This last was the reason Helen went downtown +early in the morning following the little dinner +party at the Stones’. At that party Helen had met +the uncle, aunt, and cousins of Dud and Jess Stone, +with whom the orphaned brother and sister lived, +and she had found them a most charming family.</p> +<p>Jess had invited Helen to bring her trunk and +remain with her as long as she contemplated staying +in New York, and this Helen was determined +to do. Even if the Starkweathers would not let +the expressman have her trunk, she was prepared +to blossom out now in a butterfly outfit, and take +the place in society that was rightfully hers. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span></p> +<p>But Helen hadn’t time to go shopping as yet. +She was too eager to tell Sadie of her good fortune. +Sadie was to be found—cold as the day was—pacing +the walk before Finkelstein’s shop, on +the sharp lookout for a customer. But there were +a few flakes of snow in the air, the wind from the +river was very raw, and it did seem to Helen as +though the Russian girl was endangering her +health.</p> +<p>“But what can poor folks do?” demanded +Sadie, hoarsely, for she already had a heavy cold. +“There is nothing for me to do inside the store. +If I catch a customer I make somet’ings yet. +Well, we must all work!”</p> +<p>“Some other kind of work would be easier,” +suggested Helen.</p> +<p>“But not so much money, maybe.”</p> +<p>“If you only had your millinery store.”</p> +<p>“Don’t make me laugh! Me lip’s cracked,” +grumbled Sadie. “Have a heart, Helen! I ain’t +never goin’ to git a store like I showed you.”</p> +<p>Sadie was evidently short of hope on this cold +day. Helen seized her arm. “Let’s go up and +look at that store again,” she urged.</p> +<p>“Have a heart, I tell ye!” exclaimed Sadie +Goronsky. “Whaddeyer wanter rub it in for?”</p> +<p>“Anyway, if we run it will help warm you.”</p> +<p>“All ri’. Come on,” said Sadie, with deep disgust, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +but she started on a heavy trot towards the +block on which her heart had been set. And when +they rounded the corner and came before the little +shop window, Sadie stopped with a gasp of amazement.</p> +<p>Freshly varnished cases, and counter, and drawers, +and all were in the store just as she had +dreamed of them. There were mirrors, too, and +in the window little forms on which to set up the +trimmed hats and one big, pink-cheeked, dolly-looking +wax bust, with a great mass of tow-colored +hair piled high in the very latest mode, on which +was to be set the very finest hat to be evolved in +that particular East Side shop.</p> +<p>“Wha—wha—what——”</p> +<p>“Let’s go in and look at it,” said Helen, +eagerly, seizing her friend’s arm again.</p> +<p>“No, no, no!” gasped Sadie. “We can’t. +It ain’t open. Oh, oh, oh! Somebody’s got <i>my</i> +shop!”</p> +<p>Helen produced the key and opened the door. +She fairly pushed the amazed Russian girl inside, +and then closed the door. It was nice and warm. +There were chairs. There was a half-length partition +at the rear to separate the workroom from +the showroom. And behind that partition were +low sewing chairs to work in, and a long work-table. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span></p> +<p>Helen led the dazed Sadie into this rear room +and sat her down in one of the chairs. Then she +took one facing her and said:</p> +<p>“Now, you sit right there and make up in your +mind the very prettiest hat for <i>me</i> that you can +possibly invent. The first hat you trim in this +store must be for me.”</p> +<p>“Helen! Helen!” cried Sadie, almost wildly. +“You’re crazy yet—or is it me? I don’t know +what you mean——”</p> +<p>“Yes, you do, dear,” replied Helen, putting +her arms about the other girl’s neck. “You were +kind to me when I was lost in this city. You were +kind to me just for nothing—when I appeared +poor and forlorn and—and a greenie! Now, I +am sorry that it seemed best for me to let your +mistake stand. I did not tell my uncle and cousins +either, that I was not as poor and helpless as I +appeared.”</p> +<p>“And you’re rich?” shrieked Sadie. “You’re +doing this yourself? This is <i>your</i> store?”</p> +<p>“No, it is <i>your</i> store,” returned Helen, firmly. +“Of course, by and by, when you are established +and are making lots of money, if you can +ever afford to pay me back, you may do so. The +money is yours without interest until that time.”</p> +<p>“I got to cry, Helen! I got to cry!” sobbed +Sadie Goronsky. “If an angel right down out of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +heaven had done it like you done it, I’d worship +him on my knees. And you’re a rich girl—not a +poor one?”</p> +<p>Helen then told her all about herself, and all +about her adventures since coming alone to New +York. But after that Sadie wanted to keep telling +her how thankful she was for the store, and +that Helen must come home and see mommer, and +that mommer must be brought to see the shop, too. +So Helen ran away. She could not bear any more +gratitude from Sadie. Her heart was too full.</p> +<p>She went over to poor Lurcher’s lodgings and +climbed the dark stairs to his rooms. She had +something to tell him, as well.</p> +<p>The purblind old man knew her step, although +she had been there but a few times.</p> +<p>“Come in, Miss. Yours are angel’s visits, although +they are more frequent than angel’s visits +are supposed to be,” he cried.</p> +<p>“I do hope you are keeping off the street this +weather, Mr. Lurcher,” she said. “If you can +mend shoes I have heard of a place where they will +send work to you, and call for it, and you can +afford to have a warmer and lighter room than +this one.”</p> +<p>“Ah, my dear Miss! that is good of you—that +is good of you,” mumbled the old man. “And +why you should take such an interest in <i>me</i>——?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span></p> +<p>“I feel sure that you would be interested in me, +if I were poor and unhappy and you were rich +and able to get about. Isn’t that so?” she said, +laughing.</p> +<p>“Aye. Truly. And you <i>are</i> rich, my dear +Miss?”</p> +<p>“Very rich, indeed. Father was one of the big +cattle kings of Montana, and Prince Morrell’s Sunset +Ranch, they tell me, is one of the <i>great</i> properties +of the West.”</p> +<p>The old man turned to look at her with some +eagerness. “That name?” he whispered. +“<i>Who</i> did you say?”</p> +<p>“Why—my father, Prince Morrell.”</p> +<p>“Your father? Prince Morrell your father?” +gasped the old man, and sat down suddenly, shaking +in every limb.</p> +<p>The girl instantly became excited, too. She +stepped quickly to him and laid her hand upon +his shoulder.</p> +<p>“Did you ever know my father?” she asked +him.</p> +<p>“I—I once knew a Mr. Prince Morrell.”</p> +<p>“Was it here in New York you knew him?”</p> +<p>“Yes. It was years ago. He—he was a good +man. I—I had not heard of him for years. I +was away from the city myself for ten years—in +New Orleans. I went there suddenly to take the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +position of head bookkeeper in a shipping firm. +Then the firm failed, my health was broken by the +climate, and I returned here.”</p> +<p>Helen was staring at him in wonder and almost +in alarm. She backed away from him a bit toward +the door.</p> +<p>“Tell me your real name!” she cried. “It’s +not Lurcher. Nor is it Jones. No! don’t tell me. +I know—I know! You are Allen Chesterton, who +was once bookkeeper for the firm of Grimes & +Morrell!”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXIX__THE_WHIP_HAND' id='XXIX__THE_WHIP_HAND'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<h3>“THE WHIP HAND”</h3> +</div> + +<p>An hour later Helen and the old man hurried +out of the lodging house and Helen led him across +town to the office where Dudley Stone worked. +At first the old man peered all about, on the watch +for Fenwick Grimes or his clerk.</p> +<p>“They have been after me every few days to +agree to leave New York. I did not know what +for, but I knew Fenwick was up to some game. +He always <i>was</i> up to some game, even when we +were young fellows together.</p> +<p>“Now he is rich, and he might have found me +better lodgings and something to do. But after +I came back from the South and was unfit to do +clerical work because of my eyes, he only threw +me a dollar now and then—like throwing a bone +to a starving dog.”</p> +<p>That explained how Helen had chanced to see +the old man at Fenwick Grimes’s door on the occasion +of her visit to her father’s old partner. And +later, in the presence of Dudley Stone—who was +almost as eager as Helen herself—the old man related +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_312' name='page_312'></a>312</span> +the facts that served to explain the whole +mystery surrounding the trouble that had darkened +Prince Morrell’s life for so long.</p> +<p>Briefly, Allen Chesterton and Fenwick Grimes +had grown up together in the same town, as boys +had come to New York, and had kept in touch +with each other for years. Neither had married +and for years they had roomed together.</p> +<p>But Chesterton was a plodding bookkeeper and +would never be anything else. Grimes was mad +for money, but he was always complaining that +he never had a chance.</p> +<p>His chance came through Willets Starkweather, +when the latter’s brother-in-law was looking for +a working partner—a man right in Grimes’s line, +and who was a good salesman. Grimes got into +the firm on very limited capital, yet he was a +trusted member and Prince Morrell depended on +his judgment in most things.</p> +<p>Allen Chesterton had been brought into the +firm’s office to keep the books through Grimes’s +influence, of course. By and by it seemed to Chesterton +that his old comrade was running pretty +close to the wind. The bookkeeper feared that <i>he</i> +might be involved in some dubious enterprise.</p> +<p>There was flung in Chesterton’s way (perhaps +<i>that</i> was by the influence of Grimes, too) a chance +to go to New Orleans to be bookkeeper in a shipping +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_313' name='page_313'></a>313</span> +firm. He could get passage upon a vessel belonging +to the firm.</p> +<p>He had this to decide between the time of leaving +the office one afternoon and early the next +morning. He took the place and bundled his +things aboard, leaving a letter for Fenwick +Grimes. That letter, it is needless to say, Grimes +never made public. And by the time the slow craft +Chesterton was on reached her destination, the +firm of Grimes & Morrell had gone to smash, +Morrell was a fugitive, and the papers had ceased +to talk about the matter.</p> +<p>The true explanation of the mystery was now +plain. Chesterton said that it was not himself, but +Grimes, who had been successful as an amateur +actor. Grimes had often disguised himself so well +as different people that he might have made something +by the art in a “protean turn” on the vaudeville +stage.</p> +<p>Chesterton had known all about the thirty-three +thousand dollars belonging to Morrell & Grimes +in the banks. Grimes had hinted to his friend +how easy it would be to sequestrate this money +without Morrell knowing it. At first, evidently, +Grimes had wished to use the bookkeeper as a +tool.</p> +<p>Then he improved upon his plan. He had gotten +rid of Chesterton by getting him the position +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_314' name='page_314'></a>314</span> +at a distance. His going out of town himself had +been merely a blind. He had imitated Prince +Morrell so perfectly—after forging the checks +in his partner’s handwriting—that the tellers of +the two banks had thought Morrell really guilty +as charged.</p> +<p>“So Fenwick Grimes got thirty-three thousand +dollars with which to begin business on, after the +bankruptcy proceedings had freed him of all +debts,” said Dud Stone, reflectively. “Yet there +must have been one other person who knew, or +suspected, his crime.”</p> +<p>“Who could that be?” cried Helen. “Surely +Mr. Chesterton is guiltless.”</p> +<p>“Personally I would have taken the old man’s +statement without his swearing to it. <i>That</i> is the +confidence I have in him. I only wished it to be +put into affidavit form that it might be presented +to the courts—if necessary.”</p> +<p>“If necessary?” repeated Helen, faintly.</p> +<p>“You see, my dear girl, you now have the whip +hand,” said Dud. “You can make the man—or +men—who ill-used your father suffer for the +crime——”</p> +<p>“But, is there more than Grimes? Are you +<i>sure</i>?”</p> +<p>“I believe that there is another who <i>knew</i>. +Either legally, or morally, he is guilty. In either +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_315' name='page_315'></a>315</span> +case he was and is a despicable man!” exclaimed +Dud, hotly.</p> +<p>“You mean my uncle,” observed Helen, quietly. +“I know you do. How do you think he benefited +by this crime?”</p> +<p>“I believe he had a share of the money. He +held Grimes up, undoubtedly. Grimes is the bigger +criminal in a legal sense. But Starkweather +benefited, I believe, after the fact. And <i>he</i> let +your father remain in ignorance——”</p> +<p>“And let poor dad pay him back the money +he was supposed to have lost in the smashing +of the firm?” murmured Helen. “Do—do you +think he was paid twice—that he got money from +both Grimes and father?”</p> +<p>“We’ll prove that by Grimes,” said the fledgling +lawyer who, in time, was likely to prove himself +a successful one indeed.</p> +<p>He sent for Mr. Grimes to come to see him +on important business. When the money-lender +arrived, Dud got him into a corner immediately, +showed the affidavit, and hinted that Starkweather +had divulged something.</p> +<p>Immediately Grimes accused Helen’s uncle of +exactly the part in the crime Dud had suspected +him of committing. After the affair blew over +and Grimes had set up in business, Starkweather +had come to him and threatened to tell certain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_316' name='page_316'></a>316</span> +things which he knew, and others that he suspected, +unless he was given the money he had originally +invested in the firm of Grimes & Morrell.</p> +<p>“I shut his mouth. That’s all he took—his +rightful share; but I’ve got his receipts, and I can +make it look bad for him. And I <i>will</i> make it look +bad for that old stiff-and-starched hypocrite if he +lets me be driven to the wall.”</p> +<p>This defiance of Fenwick Grimes closed the case +as far as any legal proceedings were concerned. +The matter of recovering the money from Grimes +would have to be tried in the civil courts. All the +creditors of the firm were satisfied. To get +Grimes indicted for his old crime would be a difficult +matter in New York County.</p> +<p>“But you have the whip hand,” Dud Stone told +the girl from Sunset Ranch again. “If you want +satisfaction, you can spread the story broadcast by +means of the newspapers, and you will involve +Starkweather in it just as much as you will Grimes. +And between you and me, Helen, I think Willets +Starkweather richly deserves just that punishment.”</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XXX_HEADED_WEST' id='XXX_HEADED_WEST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_317' name='page_317'></a>317</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<h3>HEADED WEST</h3> +</div> + +<p>Just at this time Helen Morrell wasn’t thinking +at all about wreaking vengeance upon those who +might have ill-treated her when she was alone in +the great city. Instead, her heart was made very +tender by the delightful things that were being +done for her by those who loved and admired the +sturdy little girl from Sunset Ranch.</p> +<p>In the first place, Jess and Dud Stone, and their +cousins, gave Helen every chance possible to see +the pleasanter side of city life. She had gone +shopping with the girls and bought frocks and hats +galore. Indeed, she had had to telegraph to Big +Hen for more money. She got the money; but +likewise she received the following letter:</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p>“Dear Snuggy:—</p> +<p>“We lets colts get inter the alfalfa an’ kick up +their heels for a while; but they got to steady +down and come home some time. Ain’t you kicked +up your heels sufficient in that lonesome city? And +it looks like somebody was getting money away +from you—or have you learnt to spend it down +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_318' name='page_318'></a>318</span> +East there? Come on home, Snuggy! The hull +endurin’ ranch is jest a-honin’ for you. Sing’s +that despondint I expects to see him cut off his +pigtail. Jo-Rab has gone back on his rice-and-curry +rations, the Greasers don’t plunk their mandolins +no more, and the punchers are as sorry +lookin’ as winter-kept steers. Come back, Snuggy, +and liven up the old place, is the sincere wish of, +yours warmly,</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>“<span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Henry Billings</span>.”</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>Helen only waited to see some few matters +cleared up before she left for the West. As it +happened, Dud Stone obtained a chance to represent +a big corporation for some months, in Elberon +and Helena. His smattering of legal +knowledge was sufficient to enable him to accept +the job. It was a good chance for Jess to go out, +too, and try the climate and the life, over both of +which her brother was so enthusiastic.</p> +<p>But she would go to Sunset Ranch to remain +for some time if Helen went West with them and—of +course—Helen was only too glad to agree to +such a proposition.</p> +<p>Meanwhile the Western girl was taken to museums, +and parks, and theaters, and all kinds of +show places, and thoroughly enjoyed herself. May +Van Ramsden and others of those who had attended +Mary Boyle’s tea party in the attic of the +Starkweather house hunted Helen out, too, in the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_319' name='page_319'></a>319</span> +home of her friends on Riverside Drive, and the +last few weeks of Helen’s stay were as wonderful +and exciting as the first few weeks had been lonely +and sad.</p> +<p>Dud had insisted upon publishing the facts of +the old trouble which had come upon the firm of +Grimes & Morrell, in pamphlet form, including +Allen Chesterton’s affidavit, and this pamphlet +was mailed to the creditors of the old firm and +to all of Prince Morrel’s old friends in New +York. But nothing was said in the printed matter +about Willets Starkweather.</p> +<p>Fenwick Grimes took a long trip out of town, +and made no attempt to put in an answer to the +case. But Mr. Starkweather was a very much +frightened man.</p> +<p>Dud came home one afternoon and advised +Helen to go and see her uncle. Since her departure +from the Starkweather mansion she had +seen neither the girls nor Uncle Starkweather +himself.</p> +<p>“He doesn’t know what you are going to do +with him. He brought the money he received +from your father to my office; but, of course, I +would not accept it. You’ve got the whip hand, +Helen——”</p> +<p>“But I do not propose to crack the whip, +Dud,” declared the Western girl, quickly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_320' name='page_320'></a>320</span></p> +<p>“You’re a good chap, Snuggy!” exclaimed +Dud, warmly, and Helen smiled and forgave him +for using the intimate nickname.</p> +<p>But Helen went across town the very next day +and called upon her uncle. This time she mounted +the broad stone steps, instead of descending to +the basement door.</p> +<p>Gregson opened the door and, by his manner, +showed that even with the servants the girl from +Sunset Ranch was upon a different footing in her +uncle’s house. Mr. Starkweather was in his den +and Helen was ushered into the room without +crossing the path of any other member of the +family.</p> +<p>“Helen!” he ejaculated, when he saw her, and +to tell the truth the girl was shocked by his +changed appearance. Mr. Starkweather was quite +broken down. The cloud of scandal that seemed +to be menacing him had worn his pomposity to +a thread, and his dignified “Ahem!” had quite +disappeared.</p> +<p>Indeed, to see this once proud and selfish man +fairly groveling before the daughter of the man he +had helped injure in the old times, was not a +pleasant sight. Helen cut the interview as short as +she could.</p> +<p>She managed to assure Uncle Starkweather that +he need have no apprehension. That he had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_321' name='page_321'></a>321</span> +known all the time Grimes was guilty, and that he +had benefited from that knowledge, was the sum +and substance of Willets Starkweather’s connection +with the old crime. At that time he had been, +as Dud Stone learned, in serious financial difficulties. +He used the money received from +Grimes’s ill-gotten gains, to put himself on his +feet.</p> +<p>Then had come the death of old Cornelius +Starkweather and the legacy. After that, when +Prince Morrell sent Starkweather the money he +was supposed to have lost in the bankruptcy of +Grimes & Morrell, Starkweather did not dare refuse +it. He feared always that it would be discovered +he had known who was really guilty of +the embezzlement.</p> +<p>Flossie met Helen in the hall and hugged her. +“Don’t you go away mad at me, Helen,” she +cried. “I know we all treated you mean; but—but +I guess I wouldn’t act that way again, to any +girl, no matter what Belle does.”</p> +<p>“I do not believe you would, Floss,” agreed +Helen, kissing her warmly.</p> +<p>“And are you really going back to that lovely +ranch?”</p> +<p>“Very soon. And some time, if you care to +and your father will let you, I’ll be glad to have +you come out there for a visit.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_322' name='page_322'></a>322</span></p> +<p>“Bully for you, Helen! I’ll surely come,” cried +Flossie.</p> +<p>Hortense was on hand to speak to her cousin, +too. “You are much too nice a girl to bear malice, +I am sure, Helen,” she said. “But we do not +deserve very good treatment at your hands. I +hope you will forgive us and, when you come to +New York again, come to visit us.”</p> +<p>“I am sure you would not treat me again as you +did this time,” said Helen, rather sternly.</p> +<p>“You can be sure we wouldn’t. Not even Belle. +She’s awfully sorry, but she’s too proud to say +so. She wants father to bring old Mary Boyle +downstairs into the old nursery suite that she used +to occupy when Uncle Cornelius was alive; only +the old lady doesn’t want to come. She says she’s +only a few more years at best to live and she doesn’t +like changes.”</p> +<p>Helen saw the nurse before she left the house, +and left the dear old creature very happy indeed. +Helen was sure Nurse Boyle would never be so +lonely again, for her friends had remembered +her.</p> +<p>Even Mrs. Olstrom, the housekeeper, came to +shake hands with the girl who had been tucked +away into an attic bedroom as “a pauper cousin.” +And old Mr. Lawdor fairly shed tears when he +learned that he was not likely to see Helen again. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_323' name='page_323'></a>323</span></p> +<p>There were other people in the great city who +were sorry to see Helen Morrell start West. +Through Dud Stone, Allen Chesterton had been +found light work and a pleasant boarding place. +There would always be a watchful eye upon the +old man—and that eye belonged to Miss Sadie +Goronsky—rather, “S. Goron, Milliner,” as the +new sign over the hat shop door read.</p> +<p>“For you see,” said Miss Sadie, with a toss of +her head, “there ain’t no use in advertisin’ it that +you are a Yid. <i>That</i> don’t do no good, as I tell +mommer. Sure, I’m proud I’m a Jew. We’re +the greatest people in the world yet. But it ain’t +good for business.</p> +<p>“Now, ‘Goron’ sounds Frenchy; don’t it, +Helen? And when I get a-going down here good, +I’ll be wantin’ some time to look at a place on +Fift’ Av’ner, maybe. ‘Madame Goron’ would +be dead swell—yes? But you put the ‘sky’ to it +and it’s like tying a can to a dog’s tail. There ain’t +nowhere to go then but <i>home</i>,” declared this +worldly wise young girl.</p> +<p>Helen had dinner again with the Goronskys, and +Sadie’s mother could not do enough to show her +fondness for her daughter’s benefactor. Sadie +promised to write to Helen frequently and the +two girls—so much alike in some ways, yet as far +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_324' name='page_324'></a>324</span> +apart as the poles in others—bade each other an +affectionate farewell.</p> +<p>The next day Helen Morrell and her two +friends, Dud and Jess Stone, were headed West. +That second trip across the continent was a very +different journey for Helen than the first had been.</p> +<p>She and Jess Stone had become the best of +friends. And as the months slid by the two girls—Helen, +a product of the West, and Jessie, a product +of the great Eastern city—became dearer and +dearer companions.</p> +<p>As for Dud—of course he was always hanging +around. His sister sometimes wondered—and +that audibly—how he found time for business, he +was so frequently at Sunset Ranch. This was +only said, however, in wicked enjoyment of his +discomfiture—and of Helen’s blushes.</p> +<p>For by that time it was an understood thing +about Sunset Ranch that in time Dud was going to +have the right to call its mistress “Snuggy” for +all the years of her life—just as her father had. +And Helen, contemplating this possibility, did +not seem to mind.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p>THE END</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:;'>SOMETHING ABOUT</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:; margin-bottom:;'>AMY BELL MARLOWE</p> +<p style=' font-size:; margin-top:; margin-bottom:1em;'>AND HER BOOKS FOR GIRLS</p> +</div> + +<p>In these days, when the printing presses are +turning out so many books for girls that are good, +bad and indifferent, it is refreshing to come upon +the works of such a gifted authoress as Miss Amy +Bell Marlowe, who is now under contract to write +exclusively for Messrs. Grosset & Dunlap.</p> +<p>In many ways Miss Marlowe’s books may be +compared with those of Miss Alcott and Mrs. +Meade, but all are thoroughly modern and wholly +American in scene and action. Her plots, while +never improbable, are exceedingly clever, and her +girlish characters are as natural as they are interesting.</p> +<p>On the following pages will be found a list +of Miss Marlowe’s books. Every girl in our +land ought to read these fresh and wholesome +tales. They are to be found at all booksellers. +Each volume is handsomely illustrated and bound +in cloth, stamped in colors. Published by Grosset +& Dunlap, New York. A free catalogue of Miss +Marlowe’s books may be had for the asking.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>THE OLDEST OF FOUR</p> +</div> + +<p>“I don’t see any way out!”</p> +<p>It was Natalie’s mother who said that, after +the awful news had been received that Mr. Raymond +had been lost in a shipwreck on the Atlantic. +Natalie was the oldest of four children, and the +family was left with but scant means for support.</p> +<p>“I’ve got to do something—yes, I’ve just got +to!” Natalie said to herself, and what the brave +girl did is well related in “The Oldest of Four; +Or, Natalie’s Way Out.” In this volume we +find Natalie with a strong desire to become a +writer. At first she contributes to a local paper, +but soon she aspires to larger things, and comes +in contact with the editor of a popular magazine. +This man becomes her warm friend, and not only +aids her in a literary way but also helps in a hunt +for the missing Mr. Raymond.</p> +<p>Natalie has many ups and downs, and has to +face more than one bitter disappointment. But +she is a plucky girl through and through.</p> +<p>“One of the brightest girls’ stories ever +penned,” one well-known author has said of this +book, and we agree with him. Natalie is a +thoroughly lovable character, and one long to be +remembered. Published as are all the Amy Bell +Marlowe books, by Grosset & Dunlap, New +York, and for sale by all booksellers. Ask your +dealer to let you look the volume over.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>THE GIRLS OF HILLCREST FARM</p> +</div> + +<p>“We’ll go to the old farm, and we’ll take +boarders! We can fix the old place up, and, +maybe, make money!”</p> +<p>The father of the two girls was broken down +in health and a physician had recommended that +he go to the country, where he could get plenty +of fresh air and sunshine. An aunt owned an +abandoned farm and she said the family could +live on this and use the place as they pleased. +It was great sport moving and getting settled, +and the boarders offered one surprise after another. +There was a mystery about the old farm, +and a mystery concerning one of the boarders, +and how the girls got to the bottom of affairs +is told in detail in the story, which is called, “The +Girls of Hillcrest Farm; Or, The Secret of the +Rocks.”</p> +<p>It was great fun to move to the farm, and once +the girls had the scare of their lives. And they +attended a great “vendue” too.</p> +<p>“I just had to write that story—I couldn’t help, +it,” said Miss Marlowe, when she handed in the +manuscript. “I knew just such a farm when I +was a little girl, and oh! what fun I had there! +And there was a mystery about that place, too!”</p> +<p>Published, like all the Marlowe books, by +Grosset & Dunlap, New York, and for sale wherever +good books are sold.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>A LITTLE MISS NOBODY</p> +</div> + +<p>“Oh, she’s only a little nobody! Don’t have +anything to do with her!”</p> +<p>How often poor Nancy Nelson heard those +words, and how they cut her to the heart. And +the saying was true, she <i>was</i> a nobody. She had +no folks, and she did not know where she had +come from. All she did know was that she was +at a boarding school and that a lawyer paid her +tuition bills and gave her a mite of spending +money.</p> +<p>“I am going to find out who I am, and where +I came from,” said Nancy to herself, one day, +and what she did, and how it all ended, is absorbingly +related in “A Little Miss Nobody; +Or, With the Girls of Pinewood Hall.” Nancy +made a warm friend of a poor office boy who +worked for that lawyer, and this boy kept his +eyes and ears open and learned many things.</p> +<p>The book tells much about boarding school +life, of study and fun mixed, and of a great race +on skates. Nancy made some friends as well as +enemies, and on more than one occasion proved +that she was “true blue” in the best meaning +of that term.</p> +<p>Published by Grosset & Dunlap, New York, +and for sale by booksellers everywhere. If you +desire a catalogue of Amy Bell Marlowe books +send to the publishers for it and it will come free.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>THE GIRL FROM SUNSET RANCH</p> +</div> + +<p>Helen was very thoughtful as she rode along +the trail from Sunset Ranch to the View. She +had lost her father but a month before, and +he had passed away with a stain on his name—a +stain of many years’ standing, as the girl had just +found out.</p> +<p>“I am going to New York and I am going to +clear his name!” she resolved, and just then she +saw a young man dashing along, close to the edge +of a cliff. Over he went, and Helen, with no +thought of the danger to herself, went to the +rescue.</p> +<p>Then the brave Western girl found herself set +down at the Grand Central Terminal in New +York City. She knew not which way to go or +what to do. Her relatives, who thought she was +poor and ignorant, had refused to even meet her. +She had to fight her way along from the start, +and how she did this, and won out, is well related +in “The Girl from Sunset Ranch; Or, Alone in +a Great City.”</p> +<p>This is one of the finest of Amy Bell Marlowe’s +books, with its true-to-life scenes of the plains +and mountains, and of the great metropolis. +Helen is a girl all readers will love from the +start.</p> +<p>Published by Grosset & Dunlap, New York, +and for sale by booksellers everywhere.</p> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>WYN’S CAMPING DAYS</p> +</div> + +<p>“Oh, girls, such news!” cried Wynifred Mallory +to her chums, one day. “We can go camping +on Lake Honotonka! Isn’t it grand!”</p> +<p>It certainly was, and the members of the Go-Ahead +Club were delighted. Soon they set off, +with their boy friends to keep them company in +another camp not far away. Those boys played +numerous tricks on the girls, and the girls retaliated, +you may be sure. And then Wyn did +a strange girl a favor, and learned how some +ancient statues of rare value had been lost in the +lake, and how the girl’s father was accused of +stealing them.</p> +<p>“We must do all we can for that girl,” said +Wyn. But this was not so easy, for the girl +campers had many troubles of their own. They +had canoe races, and one of them fell overboard +and came close to drowning, and then came a big +storm, and a nearby tree was struck by lightning.</p> +<p>“I used to love to go camping when a girl, and +I love to go yet,” said Miss Marlowe, in speaking +of this tale, which is called, “Wyn’s Camping +Days; Or, The Outing of the Go-Ahead Club.” +“I think all girls ought to know the pleasures of +summer life under canvas.”</p> +<p>A book that ought to be in the hands of all +girls. Issued by Grosset & Dunlap, New York, +and for sale by booksellers everywhere.</p> +<!-- generated by ppgen.rb version: 2.21 --> +<!-- timestamp: Mon Aug 18 05:08:44 -0600 2008 --> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Girl from Sunset Ranch, by Amy Bell Marlowe + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GIRL FROM SUNSET RANCH *** + +***** This file should be named 26534-h.htm or 26534-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/5/3/26534/ + +Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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