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Read Ebook: The Girl from Sunset Ranch; Or Alone in a Great City by Marlowe Amy Bell
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Ebook has 1475 lines and 53304 words, and 30 pages
"Chee! you're some swell; aren't you?" said the other. "We don't have them things stopping at the house every day."
"I am looking for my uncle, Mr. Willets Starkweather."
"That's no Jewish name. I don't believe he lives in this house," said the black-eyed girl, curiously.
"But, this is the number--I saw it," said Helen, faintly. "And it's Madison Avenue; isn't it? I saw the name on the corner lamp-post."
"Yes."
"Yer kiddin'; ain't yer?" demanded the stranger.
"Oh, then, there's a difference?" cried Helen, much relieved. "I didn't get to Uncle Starkweather's, then?"
"Why, Uncle Starkweather has his home at the same number on Madison Avenue that is on that fanlight," and Helen pointed over the door.
"Then he's some swell; eh?"
"I--I guess so," admitted Helen, doubtfully.
"D'jer jest come to town?"
"Yes."
"And told the taxi driver to come down here?"
"Yes."
"Well, he'll take you back. I'll take the number of the cab and scare him pretty near into a fit," said the black-eyed girl, laughing. "Then he's sure to take you right to your uncle's house."
The girl looked at her curiously. "I don't know much about tender feet. Mine never bother me," she said. "But I could see right away that you didn't belong in this part of town."
"Well, you've been real kind to me," Helen said. "I hope I'll see you again."
"Not likely," said the other, shaking her head.
"Why not?"
"And you livin' on Madison Avenyer, and me on Madison Street?"
"I can come down to see you," said Helen, frankly. "My name is Helen Morrell. What's yours?"
"Sadie Goronsky. You see, I'm a Russian," and she smiled. "You wouldn't know it by the way I talk; would you? I learned English over there. But some folks in Russia don't care to mix much with our people."
"I don't know anything about that," said Helen. "But I know when I like a person. And I've got reason for liking you."
"That goes--double," returned the other, warmly. "I bet you come from a place far away from this city."
"Montana," said Helen.
"I ain't up in United States geography. But I know there's a big country the other side of the North River."
Helen laughed. "I come from a good ways beyond the river," she said.
"Well, I'll have to get back to the store. Old Jacob will give me fits."
"Oh, dear! and I'm keeping you," cried Helen.
"I should worry!" exploded the other, slangily. "I'm only a 'puller-in.' I ain't a saleslady. Come on and I'll throw a scare into that taxi-driver. Watch me."
This sort of girl was a revelation to Helen. She was frankly independent herself; but Sadie Goronsky showed an entirely different sort of independence.
"Heh?" grunted the man.
"She said Madison Street," declared the taxicab driver, doggedly.
"But where'll I find you, Sadie?" asked the Western girl, holding the rough hand of her new friend.
The taxicab driver had started the machine again. They darted off through a side street, and soon came out upon the broader thoroughfare down which they had come so swiftly. She saw by a street sign that it was the Bowery.
The man slowed down and spoke to her through the tube.
"All right. See if you can take me to the right place now," returned Helen, brusquely.
Her talk with Sadie Goronsky had given her more confidence. She was awake to the wiles of the city now. Dud Stone had been right. Even Big Hen Billings's warnings were well placed. A stranger like herself had to be on the lookout all the time.
After a time the taxicab turned up a wider thoroughfare that had no elevated trains roaring overhead. At Twenty-third Street it turned west and then north again at Madison Square.
There was a little haze in the air--an October haze. Through this the lamps twinkled blithely. There were people on the dusky benches, and many on the walks strolling to and fro, although it was now growing quite late.
In the park she caught a glimpse of water in a fountain, splashing high, then low, with a rainbow in it. Altogether it was a beautiful sight.
The hum of night traffic--the murmur of voices--they flashed past a theatre just sending forth its audience--and all the subdued sights and sounds of the city delighted her again.
Suddenly the taxicab stopped.
"This is the number, Miss," said the driver.
Helen looked out first. Not much like the same number on Madison Street!
This block was a slice of old-fashioned New York. On either side was a row of handsome, plain old houses, a few with lanterns at their steps, and some with windows on several floors brilliantly lighted.
There were carriages and automobiles waiting at these doors. Evening parties were evidently in progress.
The house before which the taxicab had stopped showed no light in front, however, except at the door and in one or two of the basement windows.
"Is this the place you want?" asked the driver, with some impatience.
"I'll see," said Helen, and hopped out of the cab.
She ran boldly up the steps and rang the bell. In a minute the inner door swung open; but the outer grating remained locked. A man in livery stood in the opening.
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