Adrift in New York: Tom and Florence Braving the World by Jr. Horatio Alger (top 100 novels of all time .TXT) 📖

understand you, Mrs. Leighton,” Florence responded, in unaffected surprise. “Please explain.”

“You danced several times with my nephew, Mr. Percy de Brabazon.”

“Twice, madam.”

“I understood it was oftener. However, that is immaterial. You hardly seemed conscious of your position.”

“What was my position, Mrs. Leighton?” asked Florence, quietly, looking her employer in the face. “Well—ahem!” answered Mrs. Leighton, a little ill at ease, “you were a hired musician.”

“Well?”

“And you acted as if you were an invited guest.”

“I am sorry you did not give me instructions as to my conduct,” said the governess, coldly. “I should not have danced if I had been aware that it was prohibited.”

“I am sorry, Miss Linden, that you persist in misunderstanding me. Mr. de Brabazon, being in a different social position from yourself, it looked hardly proper that he should have devoted himself to you more than to any other lady.”

“Did he? I was not aware of it. Don’t you think, under the circumstances, that he is the one whom you should take to task? I didn’t invite his attentions.”

“You seemed glad to receive them.”

“I was. He is undoubtedly a gentleman.”

“Certainly he is. He is my nephew.”

“It was not my part to instruct him as to what was proper, surely.”

“You are very plausible. Miss Linden, I think it right to tell you that your conduct was commented upon by one of my lady guests as unbecoming. However, I will remember, in extenuation, that you are unaccustomed to society, and doubtless erred ignorantly.”

Florence bowed, but forbore to make any remark.

“Do you wish to speak further to me, Mrs. Leighton?”

“No, I think not.”

“Then I will bid you good-morning.”

When the governess had left the house, Mrs. Leighton asked herself whether in her encounter with her governess the victory rested with her, and she was forced to acknowledge that it was at least a matter of doubt.

“Miss Linden is a faithful teacher, but she does not appear to appreciate the difference that exists between her and my guests. I think, however, that upon reflection, she will see that I am right in my stricture upon her conduct.”

Florence left the house indignant and mortified. It was something new to her to be regarded as a social inferior, and she felt sure that there were many in Mrs. Leighton’s position who would have seen no harm in her behavior on the previous evening.

Four days afterward, when Florence entered the Madison Avenue car to ride downtown, she had scarcely reached her seat when an eager voice addressed her:

“Miss Linden, how fortunate I am in meeting you!”

Florence looked up and saw Mr. de Brabazon sitting nearly opposite her.

Though she felt an esteem for him, she was sorry to see him, for, with Mrs. Leighton’s rebuke fresh in her mind, it could only be a source of embarrassment, and, if discovered, subject her in all probability to a fresh reprimand.

“You are kind to say so, Mr. de Brabazon.”

“Not at all. I hoped I might meet you again soon. What a pleasant time we had at the party.”

“I thought so at the time, but the next day I changed my mind.”

“Why, may I ask?”

“Because your aunt, Mrs. Leighton, took me to task for dancing with you twice.”

“Was she so absurd?” ejaculated Percy.

“It is not necessarily absurd. She said our social positions were so different that it was unbecoming for me to receive attention from you.”

“Rubbish!” exclaimed Percy, warmly.

“I am afraid I ought not to listen to such strictures upon the words of my employer.”

“I wish you didn’t have to teach.”

“I can’t join you in that wish. I enjoy my work.”

“But you ought to be relieved from the necessity.”

“We must accept things as we find them,” said Florence, gravely.

“There is a way out of it,” said Percy, quickly. “You understand me, do you not?”

“I think I do, Mr. de Brabazon, and I am grateful to you, but I am afraid it can never be.”

Percy remained silent.

“How far are you going?” asked Florence, uneasily, for she did not care to have her companion learn where she lived.

“I intend to get out at Fourteenth Street.”

“Then I must bid you good-afternoon, for we are already at Fifteenth Street.”

“If I can be of any service to you, I will ride farther.”

“Thank you,” said Florence, hastily, “but it is quite unnecessary.”

“Then, good morning!”

And Percy descended from the car.

In another part of the car sat a young lady, who listened with sensations far from pleasant to the conversation that had taken place between Florence and Mr. de Brabazon.

It was Emily Carter, whose jealousy had been excited on the evening of the party. She dropped her veil, fearing to be recognized by Mr. de Brabazon, with whom she was well acquainted. She, too, had intended getting off at Fourteenth Street, but decided to remain longer in the car.

“I will find out where that girl lives,” she resolved. “Her conduct with Percy de Brabazon is positively disgraceful. She is evidently doing her best to captivate him. I feel that it is due to Mrs. Leighton, who would be shocked at the thought of her nephew’s making a low alliance, to find out all I can, and put her on her guard.”

She kept her seat, still keeping her veil down, for it was possible that Florence might recognize her; and the car moved steadily onward till it turned into the Bowery.

“Where on earth is she leading me?” Miss Carter asked herself. “I have never been in this neighborhood before. However, it won’t do to give up, when I am, perhaps, on the verge of some important discoveries.”

Still the car sped on. Not far from Grand Street, Florence left the car, followed, though she was unconscious of it, by her aristocratic fellow-passenger.

Florence stopped a moment to speak to Mrs. O’Keefe at her apple-stand.

“So you’re through wid your work, Florence. Are you goin’ home?”

“Yes, Mrs. O’Keefe.”

“Then I’ll go wid you, for I’ve got a nasty headache, and I’ll lie down for an hour.”

They crossed the street, not noticing the veiled young lady, who followed within ear shot, and listened to their conversation. At length they reached the tenement house—Florence’s humble home—and went in.

“I’ve learned more than I bargained for,” said Emily Carter, in malicious exultation. “I am well repaid for coming to this horrid part of the city. I wonder if Mr. de Brabazon knows where his charmer lives? I will see that Mrs. Leighton knows, at any rate.”

Chapter XXXI. Florence Is Discharged.

Mrs. Leighton sat in her boudoir with a stern face and tightly compressed lips. Miss Carter had called the previous afternoon and informed her of the astounding discoveries she had made respecting the governess.

She rang the bell.

“Janet,” she said, “when the governess comes you may bring her up here to me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“She’s going to catch it—I wonder what for?” thought Janet, as she noted the grim visage of her employer.

So when Florence entered the house she was told that Mrs. Leighton wished to see her at once.

“I wonder what’s the matter now?” she asked herself. “Has she heard of my meeting her nephew in the car?”

When she entered the room she saw at once that something was wrong.

“You wished to see me, Mrs. Leighton?” she said.

“Yes,” answered Mrs. Leighton, grimly. “Will you be seated?”

Florence sat down a few feet from her employer and waited for an explanation.

She certainly was not prepared for Mrs. Leighton’s first words:

“Miss Linden, where do you live?”

Florence started, and her face flushed.

“I live in the lower part of the city,” she answered, with hesitation.

“That is not sufficiently definite.”

“I live at No. 27 — Street.”

“I think that is east of the Bowery.”

“You are right, madam.”

“You lodge with an apple-woman, do you not?”

“I do,” answered Florence, calmly.

“In a tenement house?”

“Yes, madam.”

“And you actually come from such a squalid home to instruct my daughter!” exclaimed Mrs. Leighton, indignantly. “It is a wonder you have not brought some terrible disease into the house.”

“There has been no case of disease in the humble dwelling in which I make my home. I should be as sorry to expose your daughter to any danger of that kind as you would be to have me.”

“It is a merciful dispensation of Providence, for which I ought to be truly thankful. But the idea of receiving in my house an inmate of a tenement house! I am truly shocked. Is this apple-woman your mother?”

“I assure you that she is not,” answered Florence, with a smile which she could not repress.

“Or your aunt?”

“She is in no way related to me. She is an humble friend.

“Miss Linden, your tastes must be low to select such a home and such a friend.”

“The state of my purse had something to do with the selection, and the kindness shown me by Mrs. O’Keefe, when I needed a friend, will explain my location further.”

“That is not all. You met in the Madison Avenue car yesterday my nephew, Mr. Percy de Brabazon.”

“It is coming,” thought Florence. “Who could have seen us?” Then aloud:

“Yes, madam.”

“Was it by appointment?”

“Do you mean to insult me, Mrs. Leighton?” demanded Florence, rising and looking at the lady with flashing eyes.

“I never insult anybody,” replied Mrs. Leighton. “Pray, resume your seat.”

Florence did so.

“Then I may assume that it was accidental. You talked together with the freedom of old friends?”

“You are correctly informed.”

“You seem to make acquaintances very readily, Miss Linden. It seems singular, to say the least, that after meeting my nephew for a single evening, you should become such intimate friends.”

“You will be surprised, Mrs. Leighton, when I say that Mr. de Brabazon and I are old friends. We have met frequently.”

“Where, in Heaven’s name?” ejaculated Mrs. Leighton.

“At my residence.”

“Good Heavens!” exclaimed the scandalized lady. “Does my nephew Percy visit at the house of this apple-woman?”

“No, madam. He does not know where I live.”

“Then you will explain your previous statement?” said Mrs. Leighton, haughtily.

“I am at present suffering reversed circumstances. It is but a short time since I was very differently situated.”

“I won’t inquire into your change of circumstances. I feel compelled to perform an unpleasant duty.”

Florence did not feel called upon to make any reply, but waited for Mrs. Leighton to finish speaking.

“I shall be obliged to dispense with your services as my daughter’s governess. It is quite out of the question for me to employ a person who lives in a tenement-house.”

Florence bowed acquiescence, but she felt very sad. She had become attached to her young charge, and it cost her a pang to part from her.

Besides, how was she to supply the income of which this would deprive her?

“I bow to your decision, madam,” she said, with proud humility.

“You will find here the sum that I owe you, with payment for an extra week in lieu of notice.”

“Thank you. May I bid Carrie good-by, Mrs. Leighton?”

“It is better not to do so, I think. The more quietly we dissolve our unfortunate connection the better!”

Florence’s heart swelled, and the tears came to her eyes, but she could not press her request.

She was destined, however, to obtain the privilege which Mrs. Leighton denied her. Carrie, who had become impatient, came downstairs and burst into the room.

“What keeps you so long, Miss Linden?” she said. “Is mamma keeping you?”

Florence was silent, leaving the explanations to Mrs. Leighton.

“Miss Linden has resigned her position as your governess, Carrie.”

“Miss Linden going away! I won’t have her go! What makes you go, Miss Linden?”

“Your mamma thinks it best,” answered Florence, with moistened eyes.

“Well, I don’t!” exclaimed Carrie, stamping her foot, angrily. “I won’t have any other governess but you.”

“Carrie, you are behaving very unbecomingly,” said her mother.

“Will you tell me, mamma, why you are sending Miss Linden away?”

“I will tell you some other time.”

“But I want to know now.”

“I am very much displeased with you, Carrie.”

“And I am very much displeased with you, mamma.”

I do not pretend to defend Carrie, whose conduct was hardly respectful enough to her mother; but with all her faults she had a warm heart, while her mother had always been cold and selfish.

“I am getting tired of this,” said Mrs. Leighton. “Miss Linden, as you are here to-day, you may give Carrie the usual lessons. As I shall be out when you get through, I bid you good-by now.”

“Good-by, Mrs. Leighton.”

Carrie and Florence went to the schoolroom for the last time.

Florence gave her young pupil a partial explanation of the cause which had led to her discharge.

“What do I care if you live in a poor house, Miss Linden?” said Carrie, impetuously. “I will make mamma take you back!”

Florence smiled; but she knew that there would be no return for her.

When she reached her humble home she had a severe headache and lay down. Mrs. O’Keefe came in later to see her.

“And what’s the matter with you, Florence?” she asked.

“I have a bad headache, Mrs. O’Keefe.”

“You work too hard, Florence, wid your teacher. That is what gives you the headache.”

“Then