"What words are these, Tripp?" said I. "I thought you said you had a story. Every ferryboat that crosses the East River brings or takes away girls from Long Island."
The premature lines on Tripp"s face grew deeper. He frowned seriously from his tangle of hair. He separated his hands and emphasized his answer with one shaking forefinger.
"Can"t you see," he said, "what a rattling fine story it would make?
You could do it fine. All about the romance, you know, and describe the girl, and put a lot of stuff in it about true love, and sling in a few stickfuls of funny business--joshing the Long Islanders about being green, and, well--you know how to do it. You ought to get fifteen dollars out of it, anyhow. And it"ll cost you only about four dollars. You"ll make a clear profit of eleven."
"How will it cost me four dollars?" I asked, suspiciously.
"One dollar to Mrs. McGinnis," Tripp answered, promptly, "and two dollars to pay the girl"s fare back home."
"And the fourth dimension?" I inquired, making a rapid mental calculation.
"One dollar to me," said Tripp. "For whiskey. Are you on?"
I smiled enigmatically and spread my elbows as if to begin writing again. But this grim, abject, specious, subservient, burr-like wreck of a man would not be shaken off. His forehead suddenly became shiningly moist.
"Don"t you see," he said, with a sort of desperate calmness, "that this girl has got to be sent home to-day--not to-night nor to-morrow, but to-day? I can"t do anything for her. You know, I"m the janitor and corresponding secretary of the Down-and-Out Club. I thought you could make a newspaper story out of it and win out a piece of money on general results. But, anyhow, don"t you see that she"s got to get back home before night?"
And then I began to feel that dull, leaden, soul-depressing sensation known as the sense of duty. Why should that sense fall upon one as a weight and a burden? I knew that I was doomed that day to give up the bulk of my store of hard-wrung coin to the relief of this Ada Lowery.
But I swore to myself that Tripp"s whiskey dollar would not be forthcoming. He might play knight-errant at my expense, but he would indulge in no wa.s.sail afterward, commemorating my weakness and gullibility. In a kind of chilly anger I put on my coat and hat.
Tripp, submissive, cringing, vainly endeavoring to please, conducted me via the street-cars to the human p.a.w.n-shop of Mother McGinnis. I paid the fares. It seemed that the collodion-scented Don Quixote and the smallest minted coin were strangers.
Tripp pulled the bell at the door of the mouldy red-brick boarding-house. At its faint tinkle he paled, and crouched as a rabbit makes ready to spring away at the sound of a hunting-dog.
I guessed what a life he had led, terror-haunted by the coming footsteps of landladies.
"Give me one of the dollars--quick!" he said.
The door opened six inches. Mother McGinnis stood there with white eyes--they were white, I say--and a yellow face, holding together at her throat with one hand a dingy pink flannel dressing-sack. Tripp thrust the dollar through the s.p.a.ce without a word, and it bought us entry.
"She"s in the parlor," said the McGinnis, turning the back of her sack upon us.
In the dim parlor a girl sat at the cracked marble centre-table weeping comfortably and eating gum-drops. She was a flawless beauty.
Crying had only made her brilliant eyes brighter. When she crunched a gum-drop you thought only of the poetry of motion and envied the senseless confection. Eve at the age of five minutes must have been a ringer for Miss Ada Lowery at nineteen or twenty. I was introduced, and a gum-drop suffered neglect while she conveyed to me a nave interest, such as a puppy dog (a prize winner) might bestow upon a crawling beetle or a frog.
Tripp took his stand by the table, with the fingers of one hand spread upon it, as an attorney or a master of ceremonies might have stood.
But he looked the master of nothing. His faded coat was b.u.t.toned high, as if it sought to be charitable to deficiencies of tie and linen.
I thought of a Scotch terrier at the sight of his shifty eyes in the glade between his tangled hair and beard. For one ign.o.ble moment I felt ashamed of having been introduced as his friend in the presence of so much beauty in distress. But evidently Tripp meant to conduct the ceremonies, whatever they might be. I thought I detected in his actions and pose an intention of foisting the situation upon me as material for a newspaper story, in a lingering hope of extracting from me his whiskey dollar.
"My friend" (I shuddered), "Mr. Chalmers," said Tripp, "will tell you, Miss Lowery, the same that I did. He"s a reporter, and he can hand out the talk better than I can. That"s why I brought him with me." (O Tripp, wasn"t it the _silver_-tongued orator you wanted?) "He"s wise to a lot of things, and he"ll tell you now what"s best to do."
I stood on one foot, as it were, as I sat in my rickety chair.
"Why--er--Miss Lowery," I began, secretly enraged at Tripp"s awkward opening, "I am at your service, of course, but--er--as I haven"t been apprized of the circ.u.mstances of the case, I--er--"
"Oh," said Miss Lowery, beaming for a moment, "it ain"t as bad as that--there ain"t any circ.u.mstances. It"s the first time I"ve ever been in New York except once when I was five years old, and I had no idea it was such a big town. And I met Mr.--Mr. Snip on the street and asked him about a friend of mine, and he brought me here and asked me to wait."
"I advise you, Miss Lowery," said Tripp, "to tell Mr. Chalmers all.
He"s a friend of mine" (I was getting used to it by this time), "and he"ll give you the right tip."
"Why, certainly," said Miss Ada, chewing a gum-drop toward me. "There ain"t anything to tell except that--well, everything"s fixed for me to marry Hiram Dodd next Thursday evening. Hi has got two hundred acres of land with a lot of sh.o.r.e-front, and one of the best truck-farms on the Island. But this morning I had my horse saddled up--he"s a white horse named Dancer--and I rode over to the station. I told "em at home I was going to spend the day with Susie Adams. It was a story, I guess, but I don"t care. And I came to New York on the train, and I met Mr.--Mr. Flip on the street and asked him if he knew where I could find G--G--"
"Now, Miss Lowery," broke in Tripp, loudly, and with much bad taste, I thought, as she hesitated with her word, "you like this young man, Hiram Dodd, don"t you? He"s all right, and good to you, ain"t he?"
"Of course I like him," said Miss Lowery emphatically. "Hi"s all right. And of course he"s good to me. So is everybody."
I could have sworn it myself. Throughout Miss Ada Lowery"s life all men would be to good to her. They would strive, contrive, struggle, and compete to hold umbrellas over her hat, check her trunk, pick up her handkerchief, and buy for her soda at the fountain.
"But," went on Miss Lowery, "last night I got to thinking about G--George, and I--"
Down went the bright gold head upon dimpled, clasped hands on the table. Such a beautiful April storm! Unrestrainedly she sobbed. I wished I could have comforted her. But I was not George. And I was glad I was not Hiram--and yet I was sorry, too.
By-and-by the shower pa.s.sed. She straightened up, brave and half-way smiling. She would have made a splendid wife, for crying only made her eyes more bright and tender. She took a gum-drop and began her story.
"I guess I"m a terrible hayseed," she said between her little gulps and sighs, "but I can"t help it. G--George Brown and I were sweethearts since he was eight and I was five. When he was nineteen--that was four years ago--he left Greenburg and went to the city. He said he was going to be a policeman or a railroad president or something. And then he was coming back for me. But I never heard from him any more. And I--I--liked him."
Another flow of tears seemed imminent, but Tripp hurled himself into the creva.s.se and dammed it. Confound him, I could see his game. He was trying to make a story of it for his sordid ends and profit.
"Go on, Mr. Chalmers," said he, "and tell the lady what"s the proper caper. That"s what I told her--you"d hand it to her straight. Spiel up."
I coughed, and tried to feel less wrathful toward Tripp. I saw my duty. Cunningly I had been inveigled, but I was securely trapped.
Tripp"s first dictum to me had been just and correct. The young lady must be sent back to Greenburg that day. She must be argued with, convinced, a.s.sured, instructed, ticketed, and returned without delay.
I hated Hiram and despised George; but duty must be done. _n.o.blesse oblige_ and only five silver dollars are not strictly romantic compatibles, but sometimes they can be made to jibe. It was mine to be Sir Oracle, and then pay the freight. So I a.s.sumed an air that mingled Solomon"s with that of the general pa.s.senger agent of the Long Island Railroad.
"Miss Lowery," said I, as impressively as I could, "life is rather a queer proposition, after all." There was a familiar sound to these words after I had spoken them, and I hoped Miss Lowery had never heard Mr. Cohan"s song. "Those whom we first love we seldom wed. Our earlier romances, tinged with the magic radiance of youth, often fail to materialize." The last three words sounded somewhat trite when they struck the air. "But those fondly cherished dreams," I went on, "may cast a pleasant afterglow on our future lives, however impracticable and vague they may have been. But life is full of realities as well as visions and dreams. One cannot live on memories.
May I ask, Miss Lowery, if you think you could pa.s.s a happy--that is, a contented and harmonious life with Mr.--er--Dodd--if in other ways than romantic recollections he seems to--er--fill the bill, as I might say?"
"Oh, Hi"s all right," answered Miss Lowery. "Yes, I could get along with him fine. He"s promised me an automobile and a motor-boat. But somehow, when it got so close to the time I was to marry him, I couldn"t help wishing--well, just thinking about George. Something must have happened to him or he"d have written. On the day he left, he and me got a hammer and a chisel and cut a dime into two pieces. I took one piece and he took the other, and we promised to be true to each other and always keep the pieces till we saw each other again.
I"ve got mine at home now in a ring-box in the top drawer of my dresser. I guess I was silly to come up here looking for him. I never realized what a big place it is."
And then Tripp joined in with a little grating laugh that he had, still trying to drag in a little story or drama to earn the miserable dollar that he craved.
"Oh, the boys from the country forget a lot when they come to the city and learn something. I guess George, maybe, is on the b.u.m, or got roped in by some other girl, or maybe gone to the dogs on account of whiskey or the races. You listen to Mr. Chalmers and go back home, and you"ll be all right."
But now the time was come for action, for the hands of the clock were moving close to noon. Frowning upon Tripp, I argued gently and philosophically with Miss Lowery, delicately convincing her of the importance of returning home at once. And I impressed upon her the truth that it would not be absolutely necessary to her future happiness that she mention to Hi the wonders or the fact of her visit to the city that had swallowed up the unlucky George.
She said she had left her horse (unfortunate Rosinante) tied to a tree near the railroad station. Tripp and I gave her instructions to mount the patient steed as soon as she arrived and ride home as fast as possible. There she was to recount the exciting adventure of a day spent with Susie Adams. She could "fix" Susie--I was sure of that-- and all would be well.
And then, being susceptible to the barbed arrows of beauty, I warmed to the adventure. The three of us hurried to the ferry, and there I found the price of a ticket to Greenburg to be but a dollar and eighty cents. I bought one, and a red, red rose with the twenty cents for Miss Lowery. We saw her aboard her ferryboat, and stood watching her wave her handkerchief at us until it was the tiniest white patch imaginable. And then Tripp and I faced each other, brought back to earth, left dry and desolate in the shade of the sombre verities of life.
The spell wrought by beauty and romance was dwindling. I looked at Tripp and almost sneered. He looked more careworn, contemptible, and disreputable than ever. I fingered the two silver dollars remaining in my pocket and looked at him with the half-closed eyelids of contempt. He mustered up an imitation of resistance.
"Can"t you get a story out of it?" he asked, huskily. "Some sort of a story, even if you have to fake part of it?"
"Not a line," said I. "I can fancy the look on Grimes" face if I should try to put over any slush like this. But we"ve helped the little lady out, and that"ll have to be our only reward."
"I"m sorry," said Tripp, almost inaudibly. "I"m sorry you"re out your money. Now, it seemed to me like a find of a big story, you know-- that is, a sort of thing that would write up pretty well."