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.”

“Oh, I’ve learned lots of things besides manners,” said Marion, gayly, “but walk right in to our humble room. I assure you I am really and truly very glad to see you.”

Dollie got up smilingly, and greeted the two.

“Our room is not very large,” said Marion, politely, “but you can have the chair, and I will sit on the bed.”

She winked at Dollie as she seated herself firmly.

If they found Bert’s cap and jacket it would be with some difficulty.