Marion Marlowe's True Heart, or, How a Daughter Forgave — page 9: what you’re looking at

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

MY QUEEN. | 7 - “Are you sure?” asked Marion, coldly, as she turned away from him. “Waal, five hundred-dollar bills don’t grow on bushes,” he said, sneeringly, “an’ if Sile Johnson don’t get his money, he'll turn "em out the first day of Janooary.” “Silas Johnson is a brute!” said Marion, sharply. “ ?*Tain’t sweetened his nature any tew mar- ry Sal,” said Matt Jenkins, coarsely, “fer, with all her shortcomin’s, he’d ruther hev married Dollie.” Marion turned her back on him without a word. The train was approaching, she could see the headlight in the distance. “Bert Jackson got killed—s’pose yew heerd of it,” said Jenkins, in her ear. “I reckin he got tew smart with them cable cars—thet’s usually the end of country boys and gals thet think they’re smart enough tew git on in the city.” “Bert was the smartest boy that the Poor Farm ever held,’ said Marion, suddenly, turning square around. “I helped him to run away from the Poor Farm that night, and I only wish that I could help them all to get away from your crtel treatment, Matt Jen- kins.”’ , “Bert wouldn’t hev been killed if he’d stayed at the farm,” was the answer; “fer | ain’t so good ter my boys—lI only half kill ent.” Marion sprang aboard of the train almost ._ before it stopped, and as she took her seat she was shaking with laughter. “Wouldn’t he be mad if he knew the truth,” “Why, if Matt Jenkins knew that Bert was alive and in a good posi- tion, I believe he’d be so mad that he would chew nails for a fortnight.” ] she was thinking. A ripple of laughter flowed from Marion’s lips. She was so amused at her thoughts that she entirely forgot her surroundings. “By Jove! But that’s a pretty girl!” said a low voice just behind her. Marion sobered instantly, but did not turn around. She knew that the gentleman who had spoken did not intend that she should hear him. CHAPTER IV. A SERIOUS MATCHMAKER. When Marion alighted from her train at the Grand Central Depot it was almost mid- night, but she was not frightened a particle. “Tt doesn’t seem much like the first time I came,” she said to the gentleman and lady who sat just behind her and who had been talking fo her pleasantly during the last part of the journey. | “How so?” asked the gentleman, with an interested look. | “Why, I was as green as grass,’’ said Mar- ion, laughing. “I had on a homespun frock and a simple little straw hat, and it was my very first glimpse of a real city. You can't And then, do you know, I did not have a friend to meet me, imagine how lonesome I felt. while to-night my sister will be here as well as a dear friend whoslives with us.” ) “Do tell us your name,” said the lady, as they walked slowly down the platform in the long line of passengers. “Marion Marlowe,” said the young girl, promptly, ‘““and here is my address,” she said, handing her a slip of paper; “‘but after Mon- day I shall be on Blackwell’s Island. I am going there as a nurse—‘on probation,’ of course— at Charity Hospital.” “Then I may see you again, because I go there often,” said the lady, quickly. “My name is Mrs. Brookes, and ] am a member of a mission that visits the Island regularly.” “And as I am to be a physician, I may see you, too,” said the gentleman, smiling. “I am Reginald Brookes, a student at the ‘P. and 5.’ This lady is my mother, and.at present I am a bachelor.” Both ladies laughed, and they all shook hands. ECOMmMicoooks (SO)