Marion Marlowe's Money, or, Brave Work in the Slums — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“ 2 | MY QUEEN. bank very near the cornér were opened and a wrinkled and crippled old woman came slowly down the steps toward the sidewalk. In an instant the young girl sprang to the old woman’s aid. | “Let me help you down the steps, madam,” she said,. sweetly; “I see that you are lame, and there is danger of falling!” The old woman gave her a sharp glance from her sunken eyes. In an instant she seemed charmed by the young girl’s appear- ance, “Thank’ee,” she said, in a cracked and “quavering voice. “You're a good girl, miss,~ to want to help a poor old woman.” “J am always glad to help them,” said the young girl, quickly. “T shall be old myself some day if I live so long, and oh, I think it would be ‘dreadful not to be pitied and re- spected td ; : “Well, I don’t get much of either, I can tell you,” said the old woman, querulously, as she reached the sidewalk. once, but there’s none of ‘em with me now: “T had a family They all got tired of taking care of their poor old mother.” “Oh, how cruel!” cried the girl, with a flush of indignation. “Why, I would work my fingers to the bone to take care of my mother.” | “So you have a mother, have you? Where does she live?” asked the old woman, quickly. “My mother lives in the country, ata place called Hickorytown, in Connecticut,” was the pleasant answer ; “T lived there, too, until a few months ago, but then’ came to the city ‘to earn my living.” “What, alone?” asked the woman, who was still clinging to her arm. “T had a twin sister with me,” said her companion, more slowly. “She is married now and lives in a flat in Harlem.” “Oh, then you have some one to protect vou-—-vou are not entifely alone,’ said the woman, with a tone in her voice that made © the young girl stare a little. “I protect myself always,” she said proud- ly, “and just now I am living at a small hotel. I am having my voice cultivated, and am therefore living near my teacher. My name , is Marion Marlowe,” she added, pleasantly. The old woman released her hold of her arm and moved a few steps away. She seemed to want to be at a distance in order to scrutinize the girl rather than to part com- pany with her. ‘As she hobbled along her keen eyes were constantly upon her, as though she were trying to read her through and through, and at the same time she studied every outline of her figure. “You must have money, Miss Marlowe,” y; ; “Vou couldn't board at a hotel if you didn’t have money.” she said, after a brief pause. Marion had seen her charge safely across the street now, but she walked on by her side as she answered the question. “T have a little,” she said, very cautiously ; “T earned it myself, and I am trying to cul- tivate my voice. When I am able to sing in opera I hope to make my fortune.” A smile of triumph had lighted her face, and as she turned toward her companion she _ looked wondrously beautiful. “I hope you will, I am sure,” said the old. woman, sharply. She seemed to be thinking of something that was not over-pleasant. “Well, I must bid you good-morning,” said Marion, halting; “I have an errand to do and it is late. I hope you will reach home safely. But, dear me, what is the matter?” This last remark was made in an excited tone, for the woman had suddenly stopped short and was staring wildly at somebody or something. “Oh, don’t leave me, miss!” she cried, in a “Do you see that fellow over there? — thief, s.C whisper, He is watching me, dearie| He is a Ebhoo ‘ F —_ ~~ % —