Marion Marlowe's Money, or, Brave Work in the Slums — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

- MY QUEEN. 7 ~ “Take it! There’s plenty in the house I'll be bound-!| And who has a better right to it, Mag, than you who have helped to earn it!” *] haven’t! Oh, I haven’t!’ cried the girl, misunderstanding him. “I have never stolen a cenf—never done a thing dishonest! That is why Mother Nance beats me—to make me a thief—but she can’t do it! She can’t do it! I was born honest and I will die so!” - “Then you are certainly not the old wo- man’s daughter,” said the young man, ‘de- cidedly, “but see here, Mag, if you'll go I will give you the money. Give me back my stuff ; and see, here are fifty dollars!” The pale, thin face grew radiant with She handed the parcel back quick- ly and then clasped her hands together. pleasure. “Tl find a way to send you some more,” went on the young man. “I'll give you an address where you can write to me, and you can make believe I am your brother. There, Mag, go and live in the country, where you can be free and happy. You are too good a girl to live this life any longer.” In a burst of gratitude the young girl seized his hand and ktssed it. “Oh, you are so good, so good!” she mur-° mured tearfully, “and to think I have only seen you twice. I do not even know you.” “Well, you'll know me better some day— and so will Mother Nance,” said the-young man, laughing, as with an almost uncon- scious motion he stroked his false beard and mustache. “Now get your hat, Mag, and take what clothes you need. I'll keep guard over the front door until you are ready to close it behind you.” “T’ll-do it!” whispered the girl, with a sud- den determination.- “I'll run away once more, and this time she shali not“find me, or, if she does, I’ll kill myself before I’ll come back into her clutches!” She bounded toward the door that led into the hall, but just as she touched the knob it flew violently open. A beautiful young girl stood before them on the threshold. Her eyes were shining like diamonds and she was panting and breath- less. “Great Scott! pered the young man under his breath—then he suddenly recollected the role that he was playing. “Quick! Let me out of this place!” cried the excited newcomer, sharply, “I have been Marion Marlowe!’ whis- lured here by a dreadful, wicked old woman ! -Ichelped her on the street when she Said a *thief was following her—and this is the way that she has repaid me! She has made me.a prisoner !”’ | . “Did Mother Nance do that-?” asked the “Did she meet you on the street and Iure you to this building ?” young man, stepping forward. “Yes, and she would have locked me in . the: cellar, but I turned the tables on her!” cried the girl, hysterically, as she held up two keys. “She was just on the verge of calling for help when I took these away from her!” “And where is she now2” asked Mag, breathlessly. The beautiful face flushed with amuse- ment as the new-comer burst out laughing: “She's sitting with her rags in the base- ment,” she said, merrily; “both doors are locked, and I am her jailer. It was a strug- gle between us, and I was the stronger of the two!” “Hurrah! cried the young man, softly. Things couldn't be better!” “Quick, Mag, get your duds on and skip the town. Thanks to this brave young lady, you will have ample opportunity.” £< ° . ’ ® . ¥ Oh, is she a prisoner, too?” asked Marion quickly, at the same time glancing curiously at whe parcel of jewelry which the young fel- low in his excitement had fareoitam to-opvercc,