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Discovering Diverse Content Through
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The Project Gutenberg eBook of My Queen: A
Weekly Journal for Young Women. Issue 2,
October 6, 1900
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States
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Title: My Queen: A Weekly Journal for Young Women. Issue 2,

October 6, 1900

Author: Lurana Sheldon

Release date: June 4, 2018 [eBook #57274]

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MY QUEEN: A

WEEKLY JOURNAL FOR YOUNG WOMEN. ISSUE 2, OCTOBER 6,
1900 ***
 MY QUEEN
A WEEKLY JOURNAL FOR YOUNG
WOMEN
No. 2. PRICE, FIVE CENTS.

MARION MARLOWE’S COURAGE

OR

A BRAVE GIRL’S STRUGGLE FOR

LIFE AND HONOR

BY GRACE SHIRLEY

PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY STREET & SMITH, 238 William Street, New

York City.
Copyright, 1900, by Street & Smith. All rights reserved. Entered at
New York Post-Office as Second-Class Matter.
Issued Weekly. By Subscription $2.50 per year. Entered as Second
Class Matter at the N. Y. Post Office, by Street & Smith, 238 William
St., N. Y.
Entered According to Act of Congress in the year 1900, in the Office
of the Librarian of Congress, Washington, D. C.

No. 2. NEW YORK, October 6, 1900. Price Five Cents.

 MARION MARLOWE’S COURAGE;

OR,

A BRAVE GIRL’S STRUGGLE FOR LIFE AND

HONOR.

By GRACE SHIRLEY.

CHAPTER I.
A BOARDING-HOUSE EXPERIENCE.
“How much money have we left, Marion?”
“Nine dollars and seventy-five cents, but don’t worry, sister! We’ll
obtain more from somewhere, I’m sure. We cannot certainly be
going to starve in a great big city, full, as it is, of wealth and
happiness!”
Dollie Marlowe sighed disconsolately. She was not so hopeful as her
sister Marion.
The two girls were seated in a top floor room of a cheap boarding-
house, where they had gone only a day or two after Dollie’s rescue
from the clutches of Professor Dabroski, the hypnotist, who had
abducted her from her home in the country.
Both girls were dressed in simple home-made frocks, the same that
they had worn when they first came to the city, but although their
garments were coarse and absolutely destitute of style they could
not disguise the natural beauty of the two maidens.
The girls were twins, but they did not look at all alike, except in the
general characteristics of their features.
Dollie’s golden curls were bewitching as a fairy’s, and her blue eyes
sparkled even through her tears, while Marion’s fair face was sweet
and charming in spite of the anxieties to which she had been
subjected. For Marion’s first visit to the city had been full of
adventure. On her arrival she had been sent to the wrong address
by Emile Vorse, a fiend in the attire of a gentleman, who had seen
her at the station, and only rescued from the insults of another fiend
by a Miss Ray, who was kept almost a prisoner in the apartments to
which Vorse sent Marion.
Miss Ray had confided to her that she had been entrapped through a
mock marriage and only remained quiet for the sake of her family,
but Marion had induced her to run away, and the young woman was
now safe in the bosom of her family.
After this experience came the rescue of Dollie from her abductor,
and then, without funds or friends, the girls took up their brave
struggle for existence in a city which shows but little mercy to the
poor or the unfortunate.
For two weeks they had occupied this shabby room, which they
obtained, with their board, for eight dollars per week, and during
this time poor Marion had been very busy, for it was chiefly her
information that secured the indictment against her sister’s abductor.
“Thank goodness there’s nothing more to be done in that direction,”
she said, wearily. “That dreadful Mr. Lawson, or ‘Dabroski,’ as he
calls himself, is safe in jail, and the Chief of Police tells me that it will
be some time before he is brought to trial. Justice is so slow,” she
added, plaintively, “but then, it is sure, so there’s no use in getting
impatient. I’ve been to seven places to-day in my search for work.
Oh, I am sure I will get something soon! I don’t see how I can help
it!”
“You are just wearing yourself out, dearie,” said Dollie, remorsefully.
“You look a lot older than you did at home. Oh, dear, to think that I
should be the cause of all your worry!”
“Hush, Dollie!” cried Marion, “you are not to blame, sister, and, oh, I
am so glad that it isn’t any worse!”
Her beautiful face flushed scarlet as she made this admission.
Dollie’s blue eyes filled with tears and her lids drooped heavily.
“It’s bad enough, I am sure, but please don’t speak of it. You love
me just the same, don’t you, sister?” she cried, piteously.
Her loving sister rushed over to her and kissed her penitently.
“Forgive me, dear, but I can’t help thinking of it sometimes! It is
perfectly awful, and to think the papers are full of it!”
“They have been for two weeks,” said Dollie, sighing, “but they have
been so kind in their judgment of me, I can never be too grateful to
them. Still, I am glad we changed our names when we came to this
house! If our fellow-boarders knew who we were they would
probably snub us!”
“Well,” cried her noble sister, scornfully, “I should not care for that.
We have done no wrong, why should we be scorned by them?”
“It is the way of the world, I guess,” said Dollie, sadly, “for even my
own father and mother condemned me before they knew I was
guilty.”
“Oh, just hear this!” cried Marion, who had picked up the evening
paper; “poor Mr. Ray’s father was buried to-day! The grief has killed
him! And what do you think, Miss Ada Ray’s lover has thrown her
over, and all on account of her sister’s misfortunes! Oh, I can hardly
believe it! It is too utterly abominable!”
She threw down the paper in a burst of anger. She could not tolerate
injustice, it made her furious to think of it.
“I expect that is why we have seen nothing of Mr. Ray this week,”
said Dollie. “The poor old father, he must have been over-sensitive,
for if his daughter was innocent he should not have grieved so. As
for that fellow who professed to be a lover, why, he must have been
a good-for-nothing to do a thing like that. She’s lucky to be rid of
him!” she added, with unusual spirit.
But Marion was walking the floor in a perfect frenzy of indignation.
She clenched her hands together as she thought over what she had
just read.
“Mr. Ray, our dear, good friend. Oh, I am so sorry for him!” she cried.
“He is going to take his two sisters abroad immediately. He has to, I
can see that. It would be dreadful for them to stay here.”
“And we won’t see him again,” said Dollie, almost ready to cry.
Marion bit her lips and her gray eyes grew almost hard with agony.
“I’m afraid not,” she said, shortly: “the paper says he is to sail to-
morrow.”
There was a sharp rap on the door, and Marion composed herself
quickly and opened it.
The stout, coarse figure of the landlady completely blocked the
doorway.
“Good-evening, Mrs. Garvin,” said the young girl, politely, then as
she observed the woman’s expression she stood still and stared at
her.
“You are a nice pair, I must say!” began the boarding-house keeper
angrily. “To think of the likes of you comin’ into my house! You’ve
got nerve and to spare, Miss Marion Marlowe!”
She glanced at the sisters as she spoke, but as neither of them
answered she went on with her vituperations.
“Did you think because you gave your names as Miller that the truth
wouldn’t leak out? Well, that shows how much you know, you little
ninnies! Why, I’d have caught on myself if I ever read the papers!
The description of you would have given me the tip at once if I’d
happened to see it!”
“If you had read the papers you would have seen that we were not
to blame for our misfortunes,” said Marion, coldly; “but you cannot
blame us for not wishing to be known. We are only simple country
girls, we do not wish to be stared at as curiosities.”
“Oh, I guess you ain’t so simple as you look,” sneered the woman.
“Girls that run away from home with city chaps ain’t so very simple,
or innocent either.”
“Hush!” cried Marion, sternly, “not another word, madam! You are
talking about something which you do not understand! This is my
room, and I insist upon being treated with courtesy.”
Marion’s cheeks glowed like fire as she glared back at the woman.
For Dollie’s sake she would as readily have confronted the very
demon of evil himself.
“And this is my house, and I want you to leave it!” was the woman’s
prompt answer. “I’ll not harbor such creatures another night, if I
know it!”
Marion took a step forward, her face becoming covered with a
death-like pallor.
“Another word if you dare!” she said in a vibrating whisper.
The woman glanced sharply at the set lips and gleaming eyes, and
seeing something in the young girl’s manner that thrilled her
cowardly soul, she shrank back with a movement that took her over
the threshold.
As quick as a flash Marion shut the door in her face.
“You shall get out to-night!” screamed the woman through the door.
Marion opened the door again and faced her sternly.
“I paid you eight dollars to-day for a week’s board in advance. We
shall be ready to go when you have returned my money!”
“You’ll not get a cent!” roared the woman, furiously. “You shall go
out penniless, you brazen hussies!”
Marion’s lips curved in a disdainful smile as she closed the door.
“You heard what I said, madam,” was her only answer.

CHAPTER II.
A WOMAN REPORTER.
Five minutes later there was another tap on Marion’s door. She
opened it at once without the slightest hesitation.
“Oh, it is you, Miss Allyn. Come in,” she said pleasantly. “We are just
packing up, but, as you see, it will not take us long. Do sit down,
and Dollie and I will be through in a minute.”
The young lady who had entered was a woman of striking
appearance. She was about twenty-five, of medium height, but not
at all handsome. The attractive feature about her was the
shrewdness in her eyes, which were as keen as an eagle’s, and yet
perfectly frank and fearless.
“I heard that old termagant talking to you just now,” she said,
bluntly, “and I came to pat you on the shoulder, Miss Miller. Don’t
you budge an inch until she gives you back your money.”
“I wouldn’t if it wasn’t for Dollie,” said Marion, sighing. “I can’t
permit Dollie to be insulted, and if you overheard the conversation
you know who we are, Miss Allyn.”
“I’ve known it ever since you came here,” said Miss Allyn, pleasantly,
“and I’ve been hoping that she wouldn’t get on to it.”
“You knew and yet you did not tell?” cried both Dollie and Marion
together.
“What do you take me for?” was the answer, with a shrug of the
shoulders. “Don’t you think I know enough to mind my business,
and, besides, is there anything about me that looks like a snake?”
“No, indeed, there is not,” said Marion, promptly, “but most women
would have thought it fine to be able to tell such a secret.”
“Humph!” sneered Miss Allyn. “That’s why I despise women. They’d
die if they couldn’t talk, and talk always makes trouble.”
“I guess you are right,” said Marion, as she snapped the catch of the
little hair trunk which the police had rescued for her from the
apartment in “The Norwood.” It was all the girls had in the way of
baggage, but it held their scanty wardrobe nicely.
Another loud rap on the door clearly indicated that the landlady had
returned.
Miss Allyn winked at Marion and then opened the door herself,
confronting Mrs. Garvin in the most unconcerned manner.
“What, you in here, Miss Allyn!” said the landlady, sneeringly. “Well,
if I was you I’d be a little more choice in my associates.”
“Would you now?” said Miss Allyn, who was chewing gum vigorously.
“Yes, I would,” snapped the woman, “but perhaps you don’t know
who these two innocent-looking creatures are. They’re them
Marlowe girls that’s been made notorious of late in the papers.”
“You don’t say!” said Miss Allyn, still chewing vigorously. Her
extraordinary manner made her audience stare a little.
“I didn’t know it ’til to-day that I was harborin’ such critters, but out
they go to-night. I won’t keep ’em a day longer. My house is
respectable. I don’t want no——”
“Hold on Mrs. Garvin!” said Miss Allyn with a sudden ring in her
voice, “you are ‘barking up the wrong tree’ this time, old lady! I’m
better acquainted with your boarders than you think, perhaps. Do
you want me to tell you the class of people you are harboring?”
Mrs. Garvin’s red face grew paler as she listened, but she was too
thoroughly angry to think of being prudent.
“There’s no one in my house but honest people,” she began, but
Miss Allyn stopped her with an imperious gesture.
“There’s one detective, one rogue and one sneak thief,” she said
quietly, “besides an actor, two actresses and a red-headed grass
widow. Not that I blame her hair, Mrs. Garvin. I’d turn pale, too, if I
was in such close company to the widow.”
Mrs. Garvin’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She had not
dreamed of any one having such “dead wood” on her boarders, for if
there was anything wrong about any of them she had been paid not
to know it.
“Now if these poor girls could have given you an extra ten now and
then you wouldn’t have taken such a dislike to them,” went on Miss
Allyn, quietly, “but as they happen to be poor and you happen to
know it you are going to kick them out of your house this evening.”
“And with a week’s board in advance in her pocket, too!” broke in
Marion, “but is it really true, Miss Allyn, about the other boarders?”
“As true as gospel,” said Miss Allyn, calmly, “but don’t you wish to
know who the sneak thief is, Mrs. Garvin?”
The landlady reddened to the roots of her hair.
“What’s your business, anyhow?” she snapped, turning upon Miss
Allyn, furiously.
“My business is minding other people’s,” said Miss Allyn, smiling; “or,
in other words I am a newspaper reporter.”
“Oh! oh!” gasped Mrs. Garvin, almost shaking in her shoes. “So
you’ve been spying on my boarders while you lived in my house! Oh,
it’s a nice business, that! A sneaking, prying occupation!”
“It pays,” said Miss Allyn, with a shrug of her shoulders, “but come
on, old lady, pony up that eight dollars. You don’t want me filling up
my paper with what I know about you, do you?”
“You don’t dare!”
Mrs. Garvin made her last effort to frighten her boarder, but a
contemptuous glance was Miss Allyn’s only answer.
“We will not go one step until we get it,” said Marion, calmly. “So you
can take your choice, Mrs. Garvin, it is a week’s board or our money
back.”
“Well, take it and get out!” cried the woman furiously, as she drew
some bills from her pocket and flung them at Marion.
Miss Allyn picked them up and counted them carefully.
“We will go together,” she said a minute later, when Mrs. Garvin had
slammed the door and gone off fuming with anger.
“What, you will leave this house because of her ill treatment of us!
Oh, Miss Allyn, don’t think of it! It will give you too much trouble!”
“Nonsense,” said Miss Allyn, “I intended to go to-morrow. It won’t
take me an hour to pack my things.”
“But where will we go? It is nearly nine o’clock,” said Dollie,
anxiously.
“The lame and the lazy are always provided for,” quoted Miss Allyn,
merrily. “We’ll take furnished rooms, I guess, for the present. To
Bedlam with boarding-houses! I always did hate them!”
The girls dragged their little hair trunk into Miss Allyn’s room to be
sure of its safety, taking only what they would need for the night in
a paper bundle.
“She can’t touch our trunks, that’s one good thing,” said Miss Allyn.
“My board is paid for two days longer and I’ll send an expressman
for the trunks in the morning.”
“You are a wonderful woman,” said Marion, as they started out.
“Well, I’m not a howling success in all lines of business,” said Miss
Allyn, dryly, “but if I am given half a show I’m a dandy ‘bluffer.’ Now
I wonder who the sneak thief was at Mrs. Garvin’s anyway!”
“What!” cried Marion, with a ludicrous expression of dismay, “Do you
mean to say that you made that sneak thief up, that there was no
such person in the house, Miss Allyn?”
“Sure,” was Miss Allyn’s brief but expressive answer! “But I guess I
hit it pretty pat, all right. If I had described the fellow in detail. Mrs.
Garvin would not have recognized him any quicker.”

CHAPTER III.
THE SEARCH FOR EMPLOYMENT.
There was no difficulty whatever in finding a couple of furnished
rooms, and Marion and Dollie were soon located with Miss Allyn for a
neighbor.
“It’s lots more fun than boarding,” said Dollie, enthusiastically, as she
made coffee and toast for their breakfast the first morning.
“If we only had work we would be perfectly happy here,” answered
Marion, “and who knows what a day may bring forth, little sister? I
may come home to-night with a good position in my pocket.”
“It wouldn’t be a very big one if you could get it in your pocket,”
laughed Dollie, and then a sudden thought made her stare silently at
her sister.
“Well, what’s wrong with me, Dollie? Isn’t my hat on straight?” asked
Marion.
“I was thinking,” was Dollie’s answer in a very low tone. “Wouldn’t it
be better if you were to wear the dress that Miss Ray gave you,
Marion? You wouldn’t look so—so green, and perhaps some one
would employ you.”
Marion burst out laughing at Dollie’s frank description, but she shook
her head at the wise proposition.
“No, Dollie, they must employ me just as I am,” she said decidedly,
“and, besides, dear, I should hate to wear the dress again. It would
remind me of the first night I spent in New York when that villain
Emile Vorse sent me to the wrong address and I was only saved
from a monster by that dear, dear woman.”
“What became of Vorse?” asked Dollie, absently.
“He eluded the police and made his escape,” said Marion, sadly. “It’s
a pity, for he was an awful creature. But the other, Miss Ray’s
deceiver, is safely in jail. He was intoxicated and unconscious in his
apartments when the detectives found him.”
“Poor Miss Ray,” sighed Dollie, “her lot is worse, by far, than mine.
That man must have been a fiend, just like Mr. Lawson.”
“Hush! Don’t speak that name. You know we promised, Dollie.
Neither the name Carlos Lawson, nor his alias, Professor Dabroski,
must rest on our lips any oftener than is necessary. But Dollie, now I
remember it, Bert Jackson is coming to see us. I met him yesterday
on Broadway, and told him where we were. You must write him at
once, dear, and tell him our new address.”
“Poor Bert, he has had a hard row, too,” sighed Dollie, “but I guess
he’s safe now, for he’s secured a fairly good position in that office.
Oh, I wish every boy at the Poor Farm could be as lucky.”
“So do I,” said Marion, her eyes filling with tears. “Those poor boys!
I am almost home-sick, Dollie, whenever I think of them.”
“I would like to go home, too,” said Dollie, sadly. “I’d like to see
mother, and Samantha, and the chickens, but, oh, I would dread to
see father or Silas Johnson.”
“Well we won’t go back to the country at present,” said Marion,
firmly, “not until we are convinced that there is no place for us in the
city.”
“I shall go out this afternoon,” called Dollie, as Marion tripped down
the stairs. “I saw an advertisement in the paper that I am going to
answer.”
“Be careful, Dollie,” was her sister’s reply, “and don’t forget to wear a
veil, dear. That pretty face of yours is a great temptation to wicked
men.”
Dollie went back into their room just as Miss Allyn came through the
hall.
“There’ll be a typewriter here for you to-day,” she said glibly. “I
ordered it sent. I want you to learn to operate it.”
“Oh, thank you,” said Dollie, clapping her hands. “I’ve heard of them
so often. I shall be delighted to see one.”
“Well, I’ll teach you to use it in off hours,” said Miss Allyn, kindly.
“There’s no harm in learning, and it may come in handy.”
She was in a hurry to go out to fill an engagement for her paper, so
Dollie did not detain her, but busied herself in tidying up the room,
and then wrote the letter to Bert Jackson.
When the letter was ready, she put on her hat and gloves and
started out to look for work, carrying the advertisement that she had
clipped from the paper in order not to forget the address given.
She read it over as she walked along. It sounded very alluring to her
unsuspicious ears, and she smiled a little at her cleverness in not
showing it to Marion.
“What a surprise it will be to her if I get it,” she whispered. Then
once more she took out the clipping and read it over.
“Wanted—Twenty young ladies with musical ability. Must be over
sixteen and have graceful figures. Room 1019, Dusenbury Building.”
“I am sure my figure is graceful enough,” she said. “Of course, I
never did wear corsets, but I suppose I could. I expect they would
make my waist a little smaller.”
She put her hands on her hips as she walked along. She was a trifle
more plump than the girls she had seen about the city. After
considerable trouble she found the Dusenbury Building. It was a
grim-looking structure, and a regular sky-scraper.
Dollie was rushed up to the top floor at such speed that it made her
head swim a little. She had not begun to get used to the velocity
exhibited by an ambitious elevator.
She wandered around the halls for some little time before she finally
discovered a door with the number 1019 on it.
She tapped on the door gently, but there was no response except a
giggle or two from some one within, so summoning her courage she
pushed it open. There were a dozen young ladies in the room,
apparently waiting for some one.
“Come right in, don’t be bashful,” cried one frowsy-headed girl. “His
job-lots is passing on a strawberry blonde. He’ll be out in a minute.
They are in the private office.”
The other girls all tittered as Dollie smiled pleasantly. She sat down
on the edge of a chair, with her heart beating wildly.
“What do you suppose his game is, anyway?” asked one of the girls
in a low voice.
“Is it straight, do you think, or just another case of flim-flam?”
“Give it up,” was the answer from the girl addressed. “Wait ’til
blondie comes out. I hope it’s straight, tho’.”
She sighed as she spoke and Dollie glanced at her quickly. She was
pale and thin, and there was a hectic flush on her hollow cheeks.
There was no shadow of doubt that she was a victim of
consumption.
Just then one of the girls who was sitting near the door to the
private office, gave a little scream.
“What do you think of that, girls! He’s got another door. We won’t so
much as get a squint at blondie.”
“That settles it, we’ve got to go in and face the music,” said the
consumptive, “and if he insults us, we must smile and put up with it,
of course. If we yell, he’ll call in an officer and have us arrested for
blackmail.”
The words were hardly out of her mouth before the private door
opened, and a flashily-dressed man of about fifty years came out,
twirling the ends of an enormous mustache.
There was not a sound from the girls as he looked them over,
although they each posed involuntarily and tried to look attractive.
Suddenly his eye fell on Dollie, and he stared in amazement. The
girl’s fresh beauty astonished him, it was so entirely unexpected.
“Ahem! You will please step this way,” he said to her at once, at the
same time indicating by a wave of his hand that she was to enter his
private office.
“I was here first,” said one of the girls, shrilly.
“I’ve been here an hour,” said another, wearily.
“I will attend to you all in a few moments,” said the man, pompously,
as he stepped into the office behind Dollie and closed the door after
them.
 CHAPTER IV.
SILAS JOHNSON’S PROPOSAL.
Ten minutes later, when Dollie Marlowe emerged from the private
door, her face was flushed and her eyes were blazing.
“The whole thing was a hoax!” she whispered over and over. “That
man lured us all there for no purpose but to insult us.”
“I guess that is right,” said a voice at Dollie’s side.
The young girl looked around quickly and recognized the
consumptive.
“I got tired of waiting,” went on the girl, “besides, I had a
presentiment that the thing was all a hoax, but just for the joke of
the thing, do tell me what he said to you.”
There was a tone in her voice that awakened Dollie’s sympathy. It
was plain that the girl was both discouraged and disappointed.
“He told me he would make an actress of me, put me on the stage,
make me famous, and all that, but he expected me to pay him for
my tuition. The idiot! As if I had any money to spend that way,” cried
Dollie, indignantly.
“Is that all he said?” asked the other girl, slyly. “I don’t believe you’d
be so mad if that had been his only proposition.”
Dollie’s anger was so violent that she was glad to relieve it, and the
young girl looked so sympathetic that she didn’t mind telling her.
“He told me I would have to wear tights,” she stammered, furiously,
“and, oh, he said a lot more, but I cannot repeat it.”
The sick girl burst into a roar of bitter laughter.
“Same old gag,” she said, shortly. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t tarry. No
danger of his interesting himself in my direction.”
“It was disgusting,” said Dollie, who could not understand her
laughter.
“I’d have given a dollar to have heard you go for him,” said the girl,
looking at her admiringly.
“I didn’t dare to say very much,” said Dollie, more quietly, “I
remembered what you said about his having us arrested.”
“You learn quickly,” said the companion, “do you live in New York?”
“I am here with my sister, and we have no money,” said Dollie,
frankly. “We are trying to get work, that is why I came here this
morning.”
“Haven’t you any friends who can help you?” asked the girl, with
interest.
“Not a soul,” said Dollie, her lips quivering a little. “I don’t know
what we will do. We can’t live without money.”
They walked on together for a moment in silence, then the sick girl
spoke in a cautious manner.
“Mr. Max, that man you just left, has money, I suppose, and he looks
like a man who would spend it freely.”
“Well, what of it?” asked Dollie, turning to stare a little.
“I was wondering whether you were wise; you are without friends or
money. Don’t you think his proposition was worth considering?”
“What! pay him for teaching me to act!” cried Dollie.
“No, I didn’t mean that,” said the sick girl, slowly, “but——”
“You needn’t go on. I understand you,” said Dollie, her lips curling a
little. “Do you think because I am poor I would stoop to dishonor?”
The girl shrugged her shoulders and turned away.
“When you have worn yourself out, soul and body, as I have, you
will understand better,” she said wearily. “I have lived an honest life,
but what thanks have I for it?”
“You have your own self-respect,” cried Dollie, taking a step toward
her.
“Poor food for a starved stomach,” said the girl, half smiling, “but,
good-by and good luck, my little rustic.”
Dollie stood still for a moment and looked after the girl. The tears
had sprung to her eyes, and were trembling on her lashes.
“Poor soul,” she whispered, with a heavy sigh. “Poor, weary girl. Oh,
how I pity her. Then there is starvation and want in this great city of
plenty.”
She walked on after this, thinking deeply as she went, but never
quite forgetting that she must be alert and watchful.
For although Professor Dabroski was safely in jail, there were times
when Dollie almost trembled with dread. It seemed as if his fatal
spell was still haunting her senses.
As she turned into the block that led to their furnished room, she
came suddenly in sight of a familiar figure, which made her stand for
a moment as if rooted to the spot, while the blood coursed through
her veins in a perfect torrent.
A young man, with a gaunt, angular figure, dressed in butternut
colored garments, a bandana handkerchief around his neck, and a
wide brimmed straw hat upon his head, was standing about half way
down the block, staring up at the houses in a gawkified manner.
Dollie knew him at once. It was Silas Johnson, their next door
neighbor at home in the country.
This man, was the husband whom her father had chosen for her—
the man whom she had solemnly vowed she would never marry.
What was he doing in New York?
Dollie asked herself the question. It was not possible that Silas
should meet her now after her fearful experience with Professor
Dabroski. Before she had fairly recovered from her surprise, Silas
Johnson saw her and came striding along the pavement, mopping
his forehead vigorously with another bandana.
“So here’s where ye be!” was his extraordinary greeting. “I told yer
folkes I’d find ye an’ tell ’em how ye wuz livin’.”
“Are they so anxious about us?” asked Dollie, faintly. “I should have
thought if they were anxious they might have answered our letters,
for both Marion and I have written to mother.”
Silas Johnson eyed her curiously before he answered, much as if she
were a stranger instead of the girl he had known from childhood.
“Waal, yew kain’t blame ’em fer not bein’ over pertik’lar about
hearin,’” he said, bluntly. “When a gal’s run away an’ disgraced her
fam’ly it’s ag’in natur not ter resent it a leetle.”
Dollie Marlowe blushed to the roots of her hair.
“Is that what you came to say to me, Sile?” she asked, hotly. “If it is,
I’ll go on, for I’m tired and hungry.”
“No, tain’t all,” said Silas, with a peculiar leer. “I’ve got sumthin’ else
tew say tew ye, but I calkulate the street is no place tew say it.”
“It will have to do, Silas,” said Dollie, decidedly, “for Marion is not at
home, and I cannot ask you in. There is no one to hear; quick, what
else have you to say to me?”
“Waal, ef I must, I must,” was the drawling answer, “tho’ tain’t
exac’ly the place fer a man ter pop ther question.”
“What do you mean, Silas?” asked Dollie, sharply.
“Oh, I knew yew’d be surprised,” said the fellow, arrogantly. “’Tain’t
every respecterble man thet ud want ye, Dollie, but I’m willin’ ter
take ye an’ dew what’s right by ye. Yew see, I’ve got a five hundred
dollar mor’gige on yer father’s farm that’ll fall due in Janooary, an’ if
yew’ll marry me, Dollie, I’ll give him ther paper; but ef yew won’t
——”
“What, then?” asked Dollie, trembling.
“Then I’ll foreclose on him an’ turn em out,” was the decided answer.
“It’s yew or the money, an’ the deacon ain’t got no money.”

CHAPTER V.
A SAD PARTING OF FRIENDS.
When Dollie burst into the little room she was breathless with
excitement and indignation. Much to her surprise, she found Marion
there before her.
“Oh, sister!” she blurted out, “Silas Johnson is here! And what do
you think! he still wants me to marry him!”
Marion stared at her in genuine astonishment. “What! Silas here in
the city, and you have seen him, Dollie?”
“I met him in this very block just as I was coming home,” said Dollie,
pulling off her gloves, “and, oh, of all the awkward-looking gawks! I
never realized before that Silas was so homely!”
“That is because you had never seen stylish men before you came to
New York,” said Marion, quickly; “I find myself comparing every one
I ever met with Mr. Ray—city men are so handsome—and then they
dress so much better.”
“Silas had on a flannel shirt and cowhide shoes,” went on Dollie,
laughing, “and I never before believed that they could look so ugly!
But listen, Marion, he says he has a mortgage for five hundred
dollars on father’s farm, but that as he thinks I could save him that
amount in time he is willing to let it go if I will marry him!”
“He expects you to earn it weeding gardens, milking cows and
churning butter, I suppose,” said Marion scornfully.
“But, sister, just think! Where will father get the money? He can
never, never pay Sile such an amount, and he’ll turn them out if he
doesn’t get the money!”
“Turn them out of the old homestead!” exclaimed Marion, turning
pale. “The thing is outrageous! He must never do it! Never!”
“Then I’ll have to marry him,” said Dollie, dolefully. “There’s no other
way to settle the matter.”
“I’m not so sure,” said her sister, shutting her white teeth together.
“There are nearly three months before the mortgage is due. I must
think a little, Dollie; but hush! Here comes Miss Allyn!”
Miss Allyn came in, carrying the typewriter in her arms, and for the
next hour the girls almost forgot their troubles.
“I’ll learn just as fast as I can,” said Dollie, clapping her hands.
“And I’ll do my best to get you a position,” said Miss Allyn, kindly,
“but I warn you it will be with some old codger who has a red-
headed wife to look after him! You shall not have any champagne
luncheons and tete-a-tetes with your employer if I can prevent it!”
“What do you mean?” asked both girls together.
“Just this,” said Miss Allyn, with her characteristic brevity—“a pretty
typewriter is often looked upon as lawful prey by some men who
employ one in their private office. I know some typewriter girls who
tell me that they go to business in a regular mask—don’t dare wink
or smile for fear they’ll be tangled up in a divorce suit. Of course it is
not so in all cases, but a working girl must keep her eyes open in a
big city. There’s more temptation to the square inch than you get in
ten miles in the country. Look out, girls! Take my advice, wear green
veils over those pretty faces.”
“Thank you for your good advice,” said Marion, sadly; “we have
already learned that there are many pitfalls in the city, but with a
friend like you we are forewarned, Miss Allyn. Oh, how fortunate we
are to have won your sympathy.”
“Nonsense!” said Miss Allyn, as she started for the door. “I’m only a
poor reporter doing space work for my living. It’s not in my power to
be a friend to any one except to give them a few points on the
things I am most familiar with, and they are—the ways of the world
and the wiles of the wicked.”
She went out laughing, and just then there came a peal at the bell.
Marion ran out and looked over the banisters, and then ran down to
greet Mr. Ray and his sister.
“Oh, I am so glad to see you!” she cried as she hugged and kissed
Miss Ray—“I was so afraid you would go away without coming to
see me.”
Mr. Ray shook hands with Dollie and then turned to Marion. He
seemed older and sadder than she had ever seen him. Not much like
the gay-hearted young man who had befriended her so bravely on
that eventful day when she rescued poor Dollie.
“We are going abroad for a time,” he said, simply. “Now that father
is dead I think it is best. A year or two abroad, and, perhaps, some
of our griefs will be forgotten.”
As Marion glanced at their robes of mourning she could hardly keep
back the tears. These were her only friends in the big city, and now
she was going to lose them.
“I think you are wise,” she managed to say, at last, “poor Miss Ray
will be benefited greatly by the change. It must be dreadful for her
here, when every one knows of her wretched experience.”
“It is indeed,” was the answer, as Mr. Ray glanced lovingly at his
sister. Miss Ray was talking with Dollie and had not heard their
words, but she came over and joined them before Marion could
answer.
“My poor sister Ada is heartbroken,” she said, sadly. “Just think! She
has lost her lover, and all through me. I feel terribly about it, and yet
I think she is lucky.”
“She is indeed!” said her brother, promptly, “I can’t imagine a fellow
being such a cad as to throw over a sweet girl just because of
something unpleasant in the life of her sister.”
He looked at Marion as he spoke, and as their eyes met she blushed
charmingly. Such eloquent glances as Mr. Ray’s needed no
interpreter of their meaning.
“Oh! I despised him as soon as I read of it!” broke in Dollie,
impulsively. “She is well rid of him, poor girl. I hope she will get over
it quickly.”
“If a brother’s love will help her to forget him, he will not be
remembered long,” said Mr. Ray, nobly.
Marion gave him a glance that set his blood to tingling. He was
radiantly happy to see how well she understood him.
The girls all wept as they said good-by, and even the young man’s
eyes looked suspiciously moist as he took leave of the two sisters.
Miss Ray slipped something into Dollie’s hand at the last. Dollie tried
to remonstrate, but was checked emphatically.
“A reminder of my gratitude to your sister,” Miss Ray whispered; “but
for her I would still be living a life of disgrace and torture. She saved
me. I can never forget it!”
“Good-by, Miss Marlowe; Marion!” whispered Mr. Ray very gently.
“You shall hear from us after, and some day I shall be back, then
——”
He pressed her hand in both his own, while Marion’s eyes fell
beneath the glance that was so ardent and so tender.
“Good-by, Marion. God bless you,” whispered Miss Ray, taking Marion
in her arms.
“Good-by, dear brave girl, and may the angels guard you. They
ought to, my dear, for you are one of their number.”
 CHAPTER VI.
MARION’S CLEVER TRICK.
“Just see what she gave me!” said Dollie, after their guests had gone
and the girls had wiped their eyes and recovered a little from the
parting. She opened her hand and showed a fifty dollar bill. For a
moment Marion’s face flushed, and she was annoyed and indignant.
“You shouldn’t have taken it, Dollie,” she said, sharply.
Dollie hurriedly repeated Miss Ray’s words when she offered it, and
Marion’s flush of resentment faded in an instant.
“The dear girl! It was lovely of her!” she said, very softly. “If that
was the spirit of her offering, I accept it gratefully.”
The girls ate their supper with saddened hearts. They were
sorrowing for Miss Ray and her noble brother, as well as worrying
over the fate which must soon overtake their own father and mother.
“I can’t bear to think of their losing the farm,” Marion said over and
over, with tears in her eyes. “Mother is such a weak, helpless woman
and father is so old. Oh! it makes my blood boil to think of it, and
yet I cannot help it!”
“Father can hardly expect us to help him,” said Dollie, sadly. “He has
never written us once, nor will he allow mother to do so. If he were
a little less hard-hearted I think I should feel worse about it, Marion.”
“We must not think of that,” said Marion, decidedly. “They are our
parents, dear; we must try to help them.”
“But how?” asked Dollie, in great perplexity.
Marion’s eyes grew thoughtful as she answered slowly:
“I don’t know how exactly, but it must be done! I must help my
father pay off that mortgage!”
“This money will only last about a month,” said Dollie, who was
doing a little figuring, “but Oh, Marion, I am sure we shall have work
before then! But tell me, what did you do to-day? I have had no
time to ask you before.”
“I went to five places,” said Marion, promptly. “I offered my services
as laundress, chambermaid and waitress; then I tried an
employment bureau, which was a regular fraud, by the way, and two
applications in dry goods stores completed my day’s work, Dollie.”
“Poor Marion! You must be tired and discouraged!” said Dollie,
impulsively.
“Tired of fraud and humbug!” was Marion’s quick answer. “Sick and
tired of sham, hypocrisy and deceit!” she said again. “Why, do you
know, Dollie; two of those advertisements that I answered were
merely catch traps to get your money! Instead of having positions to
offer, they merely tell you they can get you one provided you pay
them for their trouble!”
Dollie burst out laughing as Marion finished, but the laugh was
unnatural; there was not an atom of mirth in it.
“I had a little experience of my own to-day,” she said, hysterically.
“Oh, Marion, it was awful! I don’t know why I laugh! Sometimes I
can’t help it though, for things in New York are so miserably funny!”
“Better laugh than cry! But tell me what you did,” said Marion,
quickly. “Oh, Dollie, I hope you didn’t get into any serious trouble.”
“Well, if I did, I got out of it,” said Dollie, sobering a little. Then she
told her sister the story of her visit to the private office. Just as she
was finishing the door bell rang.
Marion lighted the gas in their room and then went to the stairs to
listen.
“It’s Bert Jackson! Oh, Bert, come right up!” she cried, gayly. “I’m
delighted to see you, but for goodness sake what is the matter?”
She had just caught sight of the boy’s white face, and without
another word she drew him into the room and closed the door
behind them.
“They’re after me—the Poor Farm people!” whispered Bert, more in
anger than in fright. “Matt Jenkins has heard where I am and he’s
seen my employer. I had to run away, and just when I had a nice
position!”
“It’s just too mean for anything!” cried Dollie, angrily. “Matt Jenkins
is a brute! You shall not go back to him!”
“I’ll never forget how he struck you once when your arm was
broken,” said Marion, slowly. “He was not fit to be keeper of the Poor
Farm—he ought to be in prison!”
“Well, I’ll have to go back to him if they catch me,” muttered Bert,
“and he’ll flog me every day for two years, I suppose. You know I
was to stay there until I was eighteen—so much for being an
orphan! Any one would think I was a criminal!”
Marion’s mouth was curving in hard lines now, very much as it had
curved when she was planning the search for her sister. She
pondered intently a moment or two, then her sister knew by her
voice that she had thought out a solution.
“Is Matt here looking for you, Bert?” she asked, very softly.
“I think so,” said the boy, “and I saw Silas Johnson here, too. One of
the boys at the office said a man had been there looking for me. He
described him accurately. I am sure it was Matt Jenkins.”
“What did your employer do?” asked Marion again.
Bert’s eyes snapped with pleasure as he drew a ten dollar bill from
his pocket.
“He gave me this and told me I’d be safer somewhere else,” he
answered, smiling. “Oh, it was lucky I was out when Matt Jenkins
called on him!”
“He gave you good advice,” said Marion, “and I repeat it. Bert; you’d
be safer somewhere else than in our room to-night, for Silas
Johnson knows we live here, and he’s likely to come here. You must
go away quick, but, where, is the question.”
“I won’t leave New York!” said Bert, determinedly.
“You won’t have to,” said Marion. “You can easily hide in this big city.
You must change your name and go to some lodging house for the
present, then you must look for another job while you have the ten
dollars, and Dollie and I will find some way to come and see you.”
“I know a place where I can go,” said Bert. “It’s way over to the East
Side, and I can get room and board for three dollars.”
“Then go quickly,” said Marion, “but leave the address, and
remember your name is to be Bert Wilson.”
“I’ll remember,” said Bert, grinning, as he scribbled the address.
He started down the stairs saying good-by to the girls cheerily.
In two minutes he was back, his eyes flashing with anger.
“They are out there, Matt Jenkins and Sile,” he whispered, “and they
are coming in here just as sure as shooting!”
“Quick! Get into these, Bert!” cried Marion, sharply.
She sprang to the door and turned the key, then began pulling some
clothing out of a valise in the corner.
“It’s the suit Miss Ray gave me the first night I met her,” she
whispered. “The skirt is so long that it will hide your feet and I’ve
got a thick veil that will conceal your features.”
Bert pulled off his jacket as quick as a flash. In two minutes he was
dressed in Miss Ray’s stylish garments.
“They are down at the door talking to the landlady,” whispered
Dollie, who was listening at the key-hole. “Oh, I am sure they are
coming up. Is he ready, Marion?”
Marion grabbed Bert’s jacket and cap and tucked them under the
mattress, then she gave him some old gloves and drew his veil a
little tighter.
“Take short steps and hold your dress up, just a little,” she
whispered, “now, then, sum up all your courage and pass them
without a look. I’ll detain them long enough to give you the start of
them.”
Marion opened the door safely, and Bert slipped out into the hall.
There were two men and the landlady on the flight before him.
“He’d come here, sure, if the gals air here,” said the well known
voice of Matt Jenkins, the keeper of the Poor Farm.
“Waal, the gals air here all right,” was Silas Johnson’s answer, “an’ I
allow they know where Bert is right enough. The question is, kin we
make ’em tell us?”
“And what will you do with the boy if you catch him?” asked the
landlady, anxiously.
“Take him back tew the Poor Farm, where he belongs,” said Matt
Jenkins. “An’ yew bet I’ll lick him good fer puttin’ me tew all this
trouble.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” thought Bert, as he started down the stairs.
Marion walked out to the banisters and leaned over calmly.
“Some one looking for me, Mrs. Dean?” she called out, pleasantly. “If
it is, they can come right up; my sister and I will be glad to see
them.”
The landlady turned back with a sigh of relief. She was stout and
heavy and climbing stairs was not to her fancy.
“I hain’t so sure about yew’r bein’ glad tew see us, Marion Marlowe,”
said Matt Jenkins, dryly.
As he spoke he looked up at the girl, and at that moment Bert
passed him.
“You are mistaken, Mr. Jenkins, I shall be delighted,” said Marion,
smiling. “And Silas, too, why, this is really a great pleasure.”
“Then yew’r sentiments haz changed sense I saw yew last,” said
Matt Jenkins, roaring. “Yew must ter larn’t manners sense yew come
tew ther city.”
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