A Daughter of the Forest by Evelyn Raymond (best classic novels txt) 📖

her a lesson: she stared no more.

Yet she saw everything; and in that little book her uncle had provided for this object made notes of her impressions, to be discussed with him upon her return. Her first ride behind horses made her laugh aloud. They were so beautiful and graceful and their strength so appealed to her animal-loving heart. The ricketty buck-board, which was their first vehicle, seemed luxurious, though after a few miles’ jogging over a corduroy-road she confided to Joseph that she preferred a canoe.

“Umm. No shakeum up.”

A stage drawn by four steeds, rather the worse for wear, yet with the accompaniment of fellow-travelers and a musical horn, brought memories of Cinderella and other childish heroines, and made the old tales real; but when they reached the railway and stepped into a car her interest grew painfully intense. When the conductor paused to take their tickets, obligingly procured for this odd pair by the stage-driver, Margot immediately requested to be put upon the engine.

“The engine! Well, upon my word!”

“Yes, I’ve never seen one, except the one in front of this car-train. I know how they operate but I would so dearly like to see them working close at hand. Can’t I?”

The brass-buttoned official made no reply, save to purse his lips and utter another low whistle; but he gave Margot and Joe a critical survey and reflected that of all the passengers he had ever carried these were the most unique. There was something in the girl’s intelligent face that was hard to deny, and for all his silence, perhaps because of it, a certain dignity about the Indian that won favor even for him.

It was a way-train on a branch road; one of the connecting links between the wilderness and the land of the “through express” else it might not have happened that, after so long a time had elapsed that Margot felt her request was indeed refused, the conductor returned and whispered in her ear. It was a concession, not to be made general; but she was informed:

“I’ve spoken to the engineer and he says he doesn’t mind. Not if you’ll ask no questions and won’t bother.”

“I’ll not. And I thank you very much.”

“Hmm. She may be a backwoods girl but she can give a lesson in manners to many a city miss,” thought the obliging guide, as he led Margot forward through the few cars toward the front; and, at the next stop, helped her to the ground and up again into the little shut-in space beside the grimy driver of this wonderful iron horse.

Margot never forgot that ride; nor the man at the lever his unknown passenger. She had left her obnoxious bonnet upon the seat beside old Joseph and her hair had broken from its unaccustomed braid to its habitual freedom, so that it enveloped her and streamed behind her like a cloud. Her trim short skirt, her heelless shoes, her absence of “flummery” aroused the engineer’s admiration and he volunteered, what he had previously declined to give, all possible information concerning his beloved locomotive. He even allowed her, for one brief moment to put her own hand on the lever and feel the thrill of that resistless plunging forward into space.

It was only when they stopped again and she knew she ought to go back to Joe that she ventured to speak.

“I never enjoyed anything so much in my life, nor learned so much in so short a time. I wish—I wish—have you a sister, or a little girl? Or anybody you love very much?”

“Why, yes. I’ve got the nicest little girl in the United States. She’s three years old and as cute as they make ’em.”

“You’ve given me pleasure, I’d like to give her as much. May she have this from me, to get—whatever a town child would like?”

“Sure, miss, it’s too much; but——”

Margot was gone, and on the engineer’s palm shone a bright gold coin. All Mr. Dutton’s money was in specie and he had given Margot a liberal amount of “spending money” for her trip. Money being a thing she knew as little about as she did traveling he had determined to let her learn its value by experience; yet even he might have been a trifle shocked by the liberality of this, her first “tip.” However, she saw only the gratitude that leaped into the trainman’s eyes and was glad that she had had the piece handy in her pocket.

Yet, delightful as the novelty of their long journey was, Margot found it wearisome; and the nearer she reached its end the more a new and uncomfortable anxiety beset her. Joseph said nothing. He had never complained nor admired, and as far as sociability was concerned he might have been one of those other, wooden Indians which began to appear on the streets of the towns, before shops where tobacco was sold. She looked at Joe, sometimes, wondering if he saw these effigies of his race and what were his opinions on the matter. But his face remained stolid and she decided that he was indifferent to all such slight affairs.

It was when they first stepped out of their train into the great station at New York, that the full realization of her undertaking came to her. Even Joseph’s face now showed some emotion, of dismay and bewilderment, and her own courage died in that babel of noises and the crowding rush of people, everywhere.

“Why, what has happened? Surely, there must have been some fearful accident, or they would not all hurry so.”

Then she saw among the crowd, men in a uniform she recognized, from the description her uncle had once given her, and remembered that he had then told her if ever she were in a strange place and needed help it was to such officers she should apply. When this advice had been given, a year before, neither had imagined it would so soon be useful. But it was with infinite relief that she now clutched Joseph’s hand and impelled him to go with her. Gaining the side of an officer, she caught his arm and demanded:

“What is the matter? Where are all the people hurrying to?”

“Why—nowhere, in special. Why?”

The policeman had, also, been hastening forward as if his life depended upon his reaching a certain spot at a certain time, but now he slackened his speed and walked quietly along beside this odd girl, at the same moment keeping his eye upon a distant group of gamins bent on mischief. It had been toward them he had made such speed, but a brother officer appearing near them he turned his attention upon Margot and her escort.

“Oh! I thought there was something wrong. Is it always such a racketty place? This New York?”

“Always. Why, ’tis quiet here to-day, compared to some.”

“Are you an officer of the law? Is it your business to take care of strangers?”

“Why, yes. I suppose so.”

“Can I trust you? Somebody must direct me. I was to take a cab and go—to this address. But I don’t know what a cab is from any other sort of wagon. Will you help me?”

“Certainly. Give me the card.”

Margot handed him the paper with the address of the old friend with whom her uncle wished her to stop while she was in the city; but the moment the policeman looked at it his face fell.

“Why, there isn’t any such place, now. All them houses has been torn down to put up a sky-scraper. They were torn down six months ago.”

“Why, how can that be? This lady has lived in that house all her life, my uncle said. She is a widow, very gentle and refined: she was quite poor; though once she had plenty of money. She took boarders, to keep a roof over her head; and it isn’t at all likely that she would tear it down and so destroy her only income. You must be mistaken. Won’t you ask somebody else, who knows more about the city, please?”

The officer bridled, and puffed out his mighty chest. Was not he “one of the finest”? as the picked policemen are termed. If he didn’t know the streets of the metropolis, who did?

Margot saw that she had made a serious mistake. Her head turned giddy, the crowd seemed to surge and close about her, and with a sense of utter failure and homesickness she fainted away.

CHAPTER XXI IN THE GREAT RAILWAY STATION

“There, dear, you are better. Drink this.”

Margot opened her eyes in the big waiting-room for women at the great station. A kind-faced woman in a white cap and apron was bending over her and holding a cup of bouillon to her lips, which obediently opened and received the draught with grateful refreshment.

“Thank you. That is good. Where am I? Who are you?”

The attendant explained: and added, with intent to comfort:

“You are all right. You will be cared for. It was the long going without food and the sudden confusion of arrival. The Indian says you have not eaten in a long time. He is here, I could not keep him out. Is—is he safe?”

The hot, strong soup, and the comforting presence restored the girl so far that she could laugh.

“Joe safe? Our own dear old Joseph Wills? Why, madam, he is the very best guide in all the state of Maine. Aren’t you, Joe? And my uncle’s most trusted friend. Else he would not be here with me. What happened to me that things got so queer?”

“You fainted. That’s all.”

“I? Why, I never did such a thing in my life before.”

Joe drew near. His face seemed still impassive but there was a look of profound concern in his small, black eyes.

“Wouldn’ eat. Get sick. Joe said. Joe hungry, too.”

Margot sat up, instantly, smitten with remorse. If this uncomplaining friend admitted hunger she must have been remiss, indeed.

“Oh, dear madam! Please get him something to eat, or show him where to get it for himself. This last part of the road, or journey, was so long. The train didn’t stop anywhere, hardly, and I saw none of the eating places I had seen on the other trains. We were late, too, in starting, and had no breakfast. My own head whirls yet, and poor Joe must be famished. I have money, plenty, to pay for everything.”

The station matron called an attendant and put Joe in his charge. She, also, ordered a tray of food brought from the restaurant and made Margot eat. Indeed, she was now quite ready to do this and heartily; and her appetite appeased, she told the motherly woman as much of her story as was necessary; asking her advice about a stopping place, and if she, too, thought it true that the widow’s house had been demolished.

“Oh, yes, miss. I know that myself, for I live not so far from that street. It is, or was, an old-fashioned one, and full of big houses that had once been grand but had run down. The property was valuable, though, and no doubt the widow bettered herself by selling. More than that, if she is still in the city, her name should be in the directory. I’ll look it up and if I find it, telephone her. After we do that will be time enough to look for some other place, if she is not to be found.”

Margot did not understand all this, and wondered what this quiet, orderly person had to do with the starting of trains, which she could hear continually moving out and in the monster building, even though she could not see them from this inner room. But this wonder was soon lost in a fresh surprise as, having