CHAPTER XXII.

LOOKING FOR A PLACE.

"Oh, dear, oh, dear, I am so tired, and here I've traveled all day, and my feet are so sore that I can hardly step at all."

"What is the matter, and what is your name?"

"Well, the matter is that I am just tired to death, and my name is Mrs. Morris."

The lady who asked the question smiled and drew nearer to the woman, who had taken a seat on the steps of her neat residence. It certainly was no very uncommon thing to find a tired old lady in the streets of New York, but there was something in the appearance of the old lady which attracted the attention of the young and beautiful woman in the doorway.

"Oh, dear; oh, dear," she sighed again, and then the tears began to drop slowly upon the bundle she held in her lap.

She was dressed in a plain brown wool dress, and a black shawl and bonnet. She had a sweet, pleasant face, and it was that which caused the young lady to pause and take the second look, and to ask the cause of her trouble.

"If I only had a cup o' tea," the old lady said, "I could go on better, but my money is well nigh gone, and I can't afford it."

"Oh," said the young lady to herself, whom we shall call Miss Elsworth. "Oh, I wish I could turn them away when they come, but I can't. I might just as well try to stop my own hunger as to try to turn one away that is hungry, and I'll just slip in and get her a cup of tea to help her on her way. It will rest her, I am sure."

Miss Elsworth touched the woman lightly on the shoulder, saying: "Come into the kitchen and I will give you a lunch; I know a cup of tea will do you good."

The old lady arose, and wiping the tears away, said:

"God bless you, miss; I am sure you will get your reward some day for doing so great a favor."

"It is no favor," Miss Elsworth said, as she led the way to the kitchen. "Only I shall be obliged to ask you to be as quick as possible, for I am about to go out to look for a housekeeper, and I wish to find her before she is otherwise engaged. It is so hard to find a trusty one."

"Is it?"

"Yes; one has to be cautious."

Miss Elsworth hurried about and soon had a steaming cup of fragrant tea and a tempting lunch prepared for the old lady.

"Sit down, now, and perhaps you will be better able to walk after you have eaten your lunch," said Miss Elsworth.

Mrs. Morris took her seat by the table, and as she sipped her tea and broke a fresh bun she said:

"What a terrible place New York is. I hadn't no idee it was so big."

"Have you just arrived here?" Miss Elsworth asked.

"Yes; I jest come from the country. I've got to get a place to work."

"What can you do."

"I was cooking in a hotel in the village before I came here."

"Why did you come to such a place as New York?"

"Well, I'll tell you. I was working in Ghent in a hotel, and the other night I had an awful dream. I dreamed about a span o' black horses. It worried me considerable, but I thought p'r'aps 'twas foolish to think about it, but the next night I dreamed about a lot o' mud fallin' down on my head, and then I knew somethin' had happened to my poor boy. You see, I've got a boy here in New York somewhere, and you never can begin to guess how I do love that boy. He is the purtiest boy in the whole world."

Miss Elsworth looked at the old lady, thinking that her son might be pretty, as she said, for she herself must have been a very handsome woman in her youthful days. Her features were finely chiseled, and the dark hair streaked with gray was as smooth and as soft as a piece of satin. But there were lines of care around the delicate mouth and across the broad forehead, and though she might have been pure at heart, there was a lack of education and a manner that caused Miss Elsworth to pity rather than ridicule her.

"Is your son very young?" Miss Elsworth asked.

"Oh, no; he's nigh on to thirty, but you see he's sorter wild, and I'm jest afraid in a big place like this he'll git into something awful. They say they's so much mischief goin' on here."

"How did you expect to find him? Have you his address?"

"Oh, dear, no; all I've got to go by is his picture."

Miss Elsworth smiled.

"That is rather a slim guide. How did you expect to find his place of residence by that?"

"Why, I jest thought I might show it to folks now and then, and perhaps they'd know him."

Miss Elsworth smiled again. The idea of coming to New York to hunt up a prodigal son, with simply a photograph to aid her, seemed extremely ludicrous.

"And to think that I am here, all alone, without hardly any money. Why, I don't believe I'd 'a' dared to come to New York if I'd 'a' had forty dreams, if I'd knowed what a terrible big place it was."

"What did you intend to do while you are here?"

"Why, I thought as like as not I could get a chance to work. You see, I'm a awful good cook. Perhaps you know of some one that wants one?"

"Can you do other work besides, such as dusting and cleaning?"

"Oh, yes; I can do any kind of work."

"I had just started to look for a housekeeper, and as you are looking for a place, you might try it here for a while. Your duties will not be arduous, as I am alone, though you will be required to take charge of all the work, as I am not wealthy, and am not able to keep other help."

"Oh, oh, I am so glad. I am sure I can suit you. I'll show you my boy's picture, and if you should ever meet him you can tell me."

She drew from her pocket a photograph carefully wrapped in a piece of newspaper, and, unfolding it, she handed it to Miss Elsworth. She started as she gazed at the features.

"How very handsome he is," she said. "He should be very good."

"Oh, my, that's the trouble. I'm afraid he gets into bad company, for along at first he uster send me some money now and then, but for a year or two he don't ever write to me."

"Are you sure he is in New York?"

"Oh, la me, no. I tracked him from one place to another, and the last time I heard from him they told me he was in New York, but didn't know whether he was going to stay there or not."

"I am afraid you will be obliged to give up the search, but if I can aid you I will do so."

"Oh, thank you. I am so glad that I have got a place to stay, anyway, for a while, and p'r'aps when I find Charley he'll provide for me."

"I hope he will at least treat you as a son should treat a mother; but tell me how old you are, and if you are able to work."

"Well, you see, I ain't so old as I look, but Charley has worried me a lot, and that makes me look old, but I ain't quite fifty, and I am sure I'm as strong and able to work as I was when I was twenty; but I was thinkin' just now that p'r'aps Charley has got married, and his wife is proud and won't let him take care o' me. Charley didn't like to work very well, anyhow, but he might take care of us two, for he was a good enough carpenter and jiner. But I know if he's got wild it's all owin' to the tricks of this awful big city."

"The city is a bad place for a person out of employment."

"Well, I'm dreadful glad I've found a place," said Mrs. Morris, arising from the table.

"And if everything proves satisfactory, I shall be glad that I have found a housekeeper," said Miss Elsworth.

A less courageous person might have been shocked at the idea of taking a stranger into her house, as Miss Elsworth took Mrs. Morris, but she knew enough of city life to know that there was no great safety in dealing with strangers. But Mrs. Morris had an honest look and a simple, honest way, and Miss Elsworth was very much in need of a housekeeper, and so she decided to accept Mrs. Morris on trial.

The people across the way wondered why it was so very quiet about the place opposite. They saw a beautiful young lady come and go, but they knew neither her name nor occupation. Indeed, she did not seem to have any, for she was seldom seen on the street, and when she was seen she was closely veiled, as one afraid of being recognized, and was always neatly, though plainly dressed. There was any amount of mail left at her door, which fact gave rise to much speculation by gossiping and curious neighbors. They thought it very strange that a handsome young woman, seemingly without occupation, should live there with only a housekeeper. But they were none the wiser, when several months had elapsed and still she remained, coming and going in the same strange manner.

Mrs. Morris had proved herself a very trusty and efficient housekeeper, and though she was possessed of rather a peculiar disposition, she was never ill tempered.

* * * * *

"Oh, if Charley would only come back! I've often thought since I've been here what a nice thing it would be if only you could see him. You couldn't help loving him, he is so handsome; and I've often thought of what a beautiful couple you would be. La me, wouldn't you shine, though, goin' out together? But, la me, maybe he's married afore this, or he may be dead. Oh, if I jest knew. What do you think? Do you suppose he's dead?"

"Really, I have no way of knowing anything at all about it. He may be dead, or he may come back to you and make you happy the rest of your days."

"You hain't forgot what you promised, have you," she said one day, "that you would try to help me to find him?"

"No, I have not forgotten."

"P'r'aps you better keep his picture, or you might forget how he looks."

"No, I shall not forget; I never forget a face which once I have seen."

"And do you think you would know him if you should see him?"

"If he looks like his picture I shall certainly know him."

"Well, he does, for all the world."

"I have been thinking, Mrs. Morris, that when Spring comes you and I will change our place of abode, and perhaps go into the country, at least for a while."

"But maybe I wouldn't find my boy there."

"You would be just as likely to find him there as anywhere."

"Oh, I s'pose I would," said Mrs. Morris, dropping her work and looking steadily down at the carpet. "Here is your letters," she said, as a violent ring of the bell brought her to the door. "My, what a lot of 'em."

Miss Elsworth tore open the seals, one by one, perusing their contents. There was evidently something very pleasing in the last one opened, for Miss Elsworth, after reading it carefully twice through, folded and replaced it in its cover, smiling, and with sparkling eyes.

"I am very glad," she said.

"Of what?" Mrs. Morris asked.

"My last work is meeting with a very rapid sale, so my publisher tells me, and I shall no doubt make a snug little sum."

"So you're gettin' rich, are you? Well, I hope you will. P'r'aps you might look around a little for my boy. You're sure you'd know him?"

"Quite sure."

"Oh, I wish you could find him, and I can't help thinkin' how nice it would be if you two was to get married."

"I shall probably never get married," said Miss Elsworth, while a strange light came into her eyes. "But I shall be glad to help you to be happier, if I can."

"You are an angel, anyway."

"A very wicked angel," said Miss Elsworth, as she turned to her desk.

Blanche Elsworth finished her writing, and turning to Mrs. Morris she said:

"Mrs. Morris, I shall expect you to keep very quiet in regard to my business. I am really obliged to entrust to your knowledge some things which I must ask you to keep entirely to yourself."

"La me, I don't know anybody to tell anything to, and I'd never tell if I did. I'm sure I wouldn't do anything mean, when you've took such an interest in my son. Whereabouts in the country do you think you'll go?"

"I am not certain of going at all yet."

"Well, when you do get ready, it'll be all right; but I do hope you'll find my poor Charley somewhere. You an' him would make the beautifulest lookin' couple on top o' ground."

"Please do not say anything more about that, and when we find him, we will see what he has to say about it himself."

"It's awful to write books for a livin'. It jest seems to me I'd die."

"Why?" asked Blanche.

"La me, I couldn't live and not have a chance to talk to anybody."

"I believe it," said Blanche.

"Why, it jest seems to me it must be awful to sit all day and think. Why, I'd ruther wash every day in the week."

"Every one has his taste," said Blanche, "and play becomes work when monotony steps in; but gaining a living by the pen is by no means play. It has its toil, and also its charms. There are hours when it is only a beautiful pastime, and there are hours of the most incessant toil. It is neither all pleasure nor all pain."

"Well, for my part I wouldn't never want to be a writer. I never see one afore, and I always thought it was something awful nice, but, la me, I never would want to tear my brains to pieces in that way."

Blanche arose and looked out of the window. The evening was coming on, and the street lamps were just beginning to light up the city. Shop girls, with white, tired faces, men and women of toil, even children, worn and weary, were hurrying along through the cold. Everything looked like toil to Blanche Elsworth at that moment. What a long, long weary round of toil she had just completed. Her first novel had been set afloat upon the world to fall into the hands of the lover of fiction or to be scanned by the scathing eye of the critic. She remembered how, when she started, that looking before her it seemed like a long lane that had no turn. How would she ever reach the end? she had thought. Could she? Others had, but had they the difficulties to overcome that she had? She did not believe they had, but she would try it at least. She had published several small books of poems, but the work on which she was about to start out was so much broader, so much more toilsome.