CHAPTER VIII.

DOLLIE MEETS AN ADMIRER.

“Hello, Central! Give me 4079 Cortlandt! Hello! Is this the _Star_ office? Well, I want Mr. Horton, the city editor.”

Miss Allyn was sitting at the telephone in the drug store, while her two friends waited with their kind benefactor.

In spite of her wrapper and slippers Miss Allyn had insisted upon telephoning. The reportorial habit was too strong to be resisted, and furthermore, it was not often she could get an “exclusive” on such a magnificent news item.

“Hello!” she called again. “Is this the New York _Star_ editorial rooms? Oh, howd’y do, Mr. Horton? This is Alma Allyn.”

Here followed the news item with true newspaper brevity, Miss Allyn giving such a graphic account of the fire and her rescue that her audience burst out laughing.

“Call me ‘Jane Doe,’ or any old thing, Mr. Horton,” she wound up, briefly, “only see that I get an ‘exclusive’ on this. I’m sorry for the fellow at headquarters, but this is mine by rights, I was right ‘in it,’ you know, so it’s bound to be authentic.”

There was a moment’s silence and then Miss Allyn laughed.

“You’d believe it if you could see me. I’m in my wrapper and slippers, and, oh, yes, just stick this in, we have all three just been invited to spend the night at the home of Samuel Haley, of the Central Mission.”

“Oh, no!” gasped the astonished gentleman, who was standing with her friends.

“Can’t be helped now,” said Miss Allyn, calmly, as she “rang off” her telephone.

“How did you know me?” asked the gentleman, as they started out.

“Why, it popped into my head at that minute,” said Miss Allyn, laughing. “I’ve seen you often, it’s funny I didn’t recognize you directly.”

Only a short walk from the drug store and the gentleman stopped before a neat apartment-house.

He opened the door with his latch key and rang his bell vigorously.

At the top of the first flight of stairs a sweet-faced woman met them. She did not seem in the least surprised at her three strange visitors.

“Some young ladies who have just been burned out of house and home, Lizzie,” said her husband, smilingly. “I guess we can put them up somehow for the night, can’t we?”

“Bless their hearts, of course we can,” was the motherly answer, and the girls were ushered into her apartments without any further ceremony.

“Now this is what I call downright charity,” said Marion, as soon as the three girls were alone. “Did you ever in your life see such kindness, Miss Allyn?”

They had all had warm baths and a cup of tea, and each had been provided with suitable clothing.

“These two people are brimming over with charity,” said Miss Allyn, quickly. She was making herself comfortable for the night on a wide sofa, so that the two sisters could sleep in the bed together.

“He’s a city missionary and a genuinely good man. There never was a better, if all I’ve heard of him is true, and his wife is a mother to every poor girl in creation.”

“That’s downright goodness,” said Dollie, firmly. “Half the church people don’t do it, nor the ministers either.”

“Such goodness as this puts the many professing Christians to the blush,” said Miss Allyn, with energy. “There’s no cant and no hypocrisy in Samuel Haley’s religion.”

Bright and early the next morning Miss Allyn started out. Her hostess loaned her some clothing that had been contributed to the mission, and which would go there as soon as Miss Allyn was done with it.

“I guess I’m an object of charity if ever there was one,” said Miss Allyn, when she was arrayed in them. “However, I’ll be richer by noon by the looks of that paper.”

She handed Marion a morning edition of the New York _Star_, and there, sure enough, was a full account of the fire and the words “Marion Marlowe’s Heroism” in such big letters that it made the young girl blush to look at them.

Then there were pictures of the fire showing the scene on the window ledge and another which demonstrated how she had pushed Miss Allyn to safety. Altogether it was an array of information which almost staggered her.

“How in the world could they do it so quickly?” she asked her hostess, but before she was answered, there was an unexpected interruption.

A young man came into the room, whom Mrs. Haley introduced as her nephew, Ralph Moore. He was a dark-eyed, curly-haired young fellow, with charmingly courteous manners.

While Marion talked with Mrs. Haley, Ralph Moore and Dollie chatted together. The young man was smitten at once with the country girl’s pretty features.

“You will let me come and see you, wherever you go, won’t you?” he asked eagerly, as Dollie finished telling him of their experiences at the fire.

Dollie blushed a little, but she promised readily. He was so handsome and agreeable it made her heart flutter to look at him. Before noon their friendship had made rapid headway, for Mrs. Haley and Marion were too busy planning to heed them.

When Miss Allyn came in at noon she had joyful news. The paper had not only paid her well for her excellent story of the fire, but they had given her an extra fifty-dollar bill to help her recuperate from the loss of her wardrobe.

“Now we’ll go and find some more furnished rooms,” she said, gayly, “and you girls must let me pay your bills until my wealth is gone; meanwhile who knows what may turn up—you may marry millionaires or something.”

“How good you are,” cried Marion, with tears in her eyes.

“You had better do it, my dear,” said Mrs. Haley, kindly. “She is so sweet in offering it, you must not refuse her, then when your fortune has changed you can find some way to repay her.”

“And meanwhile, I shall never forget your kindness, Mrs. Haley,” said Marion, “and I am coming to see you often if you will let me.”

“My door is always open and my heart, too,” said Mrs. Haley, laughing. “I am a mother to everybody, or at least that is what they say of me.”

“You are, indeed,” said Marion, kissing her, “and now we must leave you and go with Miss Allyn.”

When Dollie parted from Ralph Moore she was shyer than ever, for the young man’s admiration was so plain that it embarrassed her.

“They’ve been spooning, I’ll bet,” said Miss Allyn, with a wink. “You’d better look out, Dollie, or I’ll put it in the paper.”

“Good-by, Miss Dollie,” said young Moore with a sly pressure of her hand, “and remember, you have promised to let me come and call. Don’t wait too long before sending your address or I shall be rude enough to hunt you up and take the chance of being scolded.”

“I guess I wouldn’t scold,” said Dollie, blushing, “but you must make friends with my sister, she is the ogre of the family.”

“She is the bravest girl in the world, and you are the sweetest,” whispered Mr. Moore, gallantly. “I only wish I was something besides a poor book-keeper, for then I might be able to help you.”

Dollie smiled her thanks, but there was no time to say more, for the others were waiting for her to join them.

Once more they started out in search of furnished rooms, but thanks to Miss Allyn’s knowledge of the city, they were soon comfortably settled.

“I’ll just run out and get some bread and milk,” said Marion, about dusk. “That will do very nicely for our supper, Dollie, for Miss Allyn will be away and I hate to spend her money. Until one of us gets work I shall be as economical as possible.”

When Marion reached the street she saw that they were only two blocks from the scene of the fire, so she walked over to look at the ruins.

“Oh, Marion, I’m so thankful you are not burned up. I was nearly crazy when I saw the paper this morning.”

Marion turned around quickly and saw Bert Jackson running after her.

“Oh, Bert, I’m so glad to see you,” was her cordial answer. “We have a room at 228, do go right over. I’ll be back just as soon as I get something for supper.”

“I guess I will,” said Bert, quickly, “for I’m keeping pretty shady nowadays, Marion; I don’t dare stay in the street for fear Matt Jenkins may be after me.”

He ran over to the house and Marion hurried to the grocery. She was just coming out with her bread and milk when she came face to face with a half-drunken fellow.

“Ah there, my beauty,” said the fellow, impudently, as he caught sight of Marion. “Bless your pretty face. I’ve seen you somewhere before. Great Scott, but you’re a stunner. I’d like to kiss you.”

“How dare you!” cried Marion in a frightened voice. “Let me pass at once, sir, or I will call a policeman.”

The fellow drew back and Marion darted past him like a flash.

“Where in the world have I seen him?” she muttered to herself. “There’s something familiar about him, and yet I can’t place him.”