CHAPTER X.

A DEED OF VALOR.

It was the day following Miss Allyn’s departure to her distant home, and Marion Marlowe was once more making the rounds of the city.

As she stood before the door of a handsome brown-stone residence her brain was teeming with some hitherto almost unknown sensations.

Why was it that some should have so much and others so little? Why should she be so utterly destitute of even the necessaries of life, while others were basking idly in the sunshine of luxury? The memory of that hateful mortgage had not left her day or night, yet as the weeks passed by they left her worse off than ever. She could now hardly afford to buy food for her sister and herself.

Since Miss Allyn’s departure Dollie had worried herself sick and was now lying at home, ill with an obstinate slow fever. Good Mrs. Haley had helped them all she could, but her husband was poor and the demands upon them were enormous.

Marion groaned to think of being obliged to call upon her for anything.

As the door of the handsome house swung open Marion stepped wearily into the hall, where she was asked by a haughty butler to state her errand to his mistress.

“She advertised for a governess,” said Marion, plaintively, “and I have an excellent education, I feel sure that I could suit her.”

“Know French and German?” asked the man in a hard voice. “Can you teach the Delsarte method and play the piano?”

Marion stared at him for a second.

“The advertisement reads that Mrs. Van Siegen will pay only $20 per month,” she said faintly. “Is it possible she expects any such accomplishments for that money?”

“Certainly,” said the butler with a pompous wave of his hand. “She not only expects it, but she’ll doubtless get it. There’s hundreds that will jump at the position which she offers.”

“Poor things. Well, they are welcome to it,” said Marion, with a sigh. “There must be people worse off than I am in the city.”

She went out of the house with dull despair in her heart. This bit of information had set her thinking.

If women with such accomplishments were willing and glad to work for such money, it was plainly to be seen that there was little hope for her, with only a thorough New England school education.

“What shall I do?” she whispered as she turned toward home. “I haven’t a dollar in the world, and poor Dollie is ill and suffering.”

It was almost dark, still Marion walked along slowly. She had been so far that day that she felt lame and weary.

As she reached Union Square she started through the park, hoping that a glimpse of the grass and trees would rest her a little.

It was the middle of September, and the fountain, was still playing. There were people on all the benches and the walks were swarming with children.

Suddenly Marion saw a sight that made her blood boil with anger. She stood still staring for a moment, hardly able to believe it.

Some big boys had found a poor little yellow dog, and were amusing themselves by throwing it into the basin of the fountain and then letting it swim out, only to compel it to repeat the operation.

The dog was trembling with fear and looked utterly wretched, and Marion noticed that it was lame and limping.

In an instant she was in the very midst of the group of urchins, her fair face ablaze with indignation.

“Shame on you, boys, for tormenting the poor dog,” she said, sternly. “Can’t you see that it is lame, and sick, and frightened? How would you like to be thrown into the fountain yourselves? Do let the poor thing go and don’t be so cruel.”

“Aw, come off your perch,” said one of the biggest boys, saucily, as he made a grab for the dog, just as it clambered up over the basin.

“Don’t you dare do that again,” cried Marion, who was now furious.

The boy grinned in her face as he caught the dog and threw it with all his might into the very centre of the fountain.

What followed was a surprise to every occupant of the benches, and as for the boys, their eyes almost popped out of their heads in wonder.

As quick as a flash Marion caught the big boy by the collar. Her grip was like iron, for she was in deadly earnest.

The next second she had lifted him completely off his feet, and with a terrific effort, flung him head first into the water.

Then catching up the poor little dog, all dripping, in her arms, she started for the street, as if nothing had happened.

A roar of delight went up from every spectator of the scene, and as for the boys, they jeered and laughed at their companion, shouting their approval of Marion’s skill in the regular street gamin manner.

“That was well done, miss,” said a big policeman, who had overtaken Marion as she was leaving the park. “I was up at the other end, or I’d have put a stop to their capers, but you did just right.” He was shaking with laughter.

“What can I do with the dog, so they won’t get it again?” asked Marion, who was still scarlet with indignation.

The officer turned around and beckoned to a good-natured but seedily dressed man.

“Here, Bill, take this dog over to the society’s rooms,” he said shortly, “and there’s a quarter to pay you for your trouble.”

Marion thanked them both and hurried away. Her heart was lighter for having done even a poor street dog a kindly service.

Just as she reached her home a gentleman rushed up to her. It was young Ralph Moore, looking worried and anxious.

“You are in awfully hard luck, aren’t you, Miss Marlowe?” he said, rapidly, “and poor Dollie is sick. Oh, you don’t know how I pity you.”

“I don’t know what I’ll do,” said Marion, sadly. “I am on our last dollar, and the rent is due to-morrow.”

Mr. Moore stood in silence for just a minute, then he turned to Marion again, his face flushing with emotion.

“I will be back in an hour or two, at the most, Miss Marlowe,” he said, hastily. “Something has got to be done. I can’t see poor Dollie suffer.”

“Oh, what do you mean?” began Marion.

Mr. Moore cut her short with an impulsive explanation.

“I mean that I must help Dollie in some way or other, for I love her, Miss Marlowe, please tell her that I love her.”