The Street of the City Read online

  She sighed at the thought. It was so much pleasanter going this way—no crowded buses, no stuffy air. Just this grand cold snap in the tingling crisp air and sunshine. It made the blood simply dance in her cheeks and gave her such a free feeling, almost as if she were really happy again, the way she used to be before her father died and there were not so many burdens to bear. Mother looking so worn and sad, so worried at her having to go off into the world and work. Oh, of course Mother didn’t mind her working. But she did hate to have her go off into conditions that were all strange and new to her. Mother had old-fashioned, sweet ideas that a girl ought to be guarded and not have to go and work in offices among men. Mother wanted to know the people herself among whom her daughter worked all day. Someday, perhaps she would understand that it wasn’t bad. It was really very nice and orderly, and the men among whom she worked were kind and pleasant. And then there were a number of boys, just like the high school boys with whom she had so recently been associated. Some young college men, too, who had been debarred from military service because of some physical defect or weakness. They were fine and kind, and she had a feeling that everybody in the plant was wonderful.

  She had come out into the world of business with the idea that she must be on her guard wherever she went. But she was gradually coming to feel that attitude had been a mistake. All the men she met were so helpful, so ready to tell her what to do when she asked a question, that she gave her sweet, shy smile in return. It gave her a happy, satisfied feeling. She must make her mother understand how kind and in earnest everyone was, and that perhaps would keep her from her constant worrying.

  So it was with an almost light heart that Frannie sat down on the snowy bank to remove her skates and slip on her other shoes for the day, and then tucking her skates into the ample pockets of her old coat, she ran lightly up the steps that led to the door of the building where she worked.

  As she went toward her desk, two young men stood at the end of the room and talked, watching covertly the different people in the room.

  “There she comes,” said one with a weak face and pale eyes. “Isn’t she a honey? Gosh, she’s a sight for sore eyes. And look how she walks. She arrives on skates by the river! And can she move? Just like some little bird! Boy! I’m telling you.”

  “Yes, she sure is a smooth little number,” said the other, who went by the name of Spike Emberly, “I think I’ll make a date with her for tonight and try her out as a dancer.”

  “Not on yer life you don’t,” growled the other. “She’s my find. You keep hands off or you’ll be sorry!”

  “Oh, will I?” leered the boy with the mop of dark, curly hair and bold eyes. “How do you know but you’ll be the sorry one? Well, here goes! Watch me!”

  He strode ahead and fell into step with Frannie as she walked toward her desk. She looked up, startled, into the bold black eyes.

  “Hello, beautiful!” He greeted her with the kind of grin that did not belong in her social stratum. “I’ve been waiting for you. Want to make a date? How about going places tonight? Take you to a swell joint for dinner. Good eats, good drinks, and then we’ll go dancing. That okay with you?”

  Frannie gave him a frightened look and lifted her chin gravely.

  “Thank you, no!” she said with finality. “I am busy this evening.”

  “Then how about tomorrow evening? That’ll give me more time to make arrangements.”

  “Thank you, no. My evenings are all occupied!”

  “Say, now, that’s too bad. You really ought to take a day off now and then. Your health won’t stand that kind of life. A little fun now and then is what you need. Tell me where you live and I’ll call for you. You wouldn’t know what you’re missing till you try it. Come on, you try me out once and see if you don’t have the time of your life. Where do you live? I’ll call for you about seven-thirty or eight. How’s that?”

  “Definitely, no!” said Frannie, turning sharply toward her desk.

  And then the pale-eyed boy stepped up on the other side.

  “What did I tell you, Spike? A dame like this one wouldn’t be seen with a guy like yerself. She’s my girl, I told you. You lay off her, Spike Emberly. She’s going places with me. We have a previous engagement, haven’t we, lovely?”

  Frannie gave a frightened glance around and saw that the head of the department was just entering the room at the far end, so she settled down quietly into her chair and ignored the two, her cheeks growing white with annoyance. So this very morning when she was so sure that all the young men in the plant were perfect gentlemen, here had come these two to disprove it. Well she certainly would have to make them understand that she wanted nothing to do with them. Utter strangers! How upset her mother would have been if she had overheard what they said. Not, of course, that there was anything actually wrong about it, except that free-and-easy, intimate way that seemed to be the vogue these days among young people. Perhaps she was growing prudish, but she certainly didn’t like the way they had talked. Like picking her up on the street.

  But the young men had cast an eye toward the doorway, too, and noted the manager coming in their direction.

  “Well, good-bye, dolling,” said the one called Spike. “Here comes the big boss. I better get on with my job,” and he vanished out the opposite door. But the other lingered, his eyes on her face, his voice lowered to confidential tones.

  “Just in case you’re interested,” he said, “my name is Kit Creeber, and I’m meeting you down on the ice at closing time. So long baby, till t’night!” then he made the tour of the room, stopping to speak to three other girls on the way, as if he had messages from someone in the office for them.

  Frannie was engrossed in polishing her typewriter and seemed not to be aware of his presence, but she was exceedingly annoyed and no movement of his escaped her notice. Now what was she going to do tonight? How could she get away without meeting him? But meet him she certainly would not do, no matter if she had to go out the front way and take a taxi home to avoid it. Of course, that would cost a lot, and she didn’t know the vicinity well enough to find a bus going home.

  Perhaps some of the other girls could tell her at noon. She looked despairingly around at them. There wasn’t one that she felt friendly with yet. Perhaps that was her fault. Her mother had always told her that she was far too shy. She must overcome this and make friends, of course, but how she hated the idea of those two fellows who had approached her this morning. Was she just silly? Perhaps she ought to have laughed them off, but somehow she just couldn’t. The boys at her old home had never treated her that way. They were polite. But there! She must forget this and plunge her mind into her work. Perhaps at noontime she could ask a few questions about how to get home by bus, just casually, of course. She wouldn’t let anybody know that those boys had been fresh with her. Perhaps they wouldn’t think there was anything wrong with what they did anyway.

  Then the buzzer on her desk sounded and she picked up her pencil and pad and made her way to the inner office for dictation, and the two impudent young men passed out of her thoughts for the time.

  The man for whom she was taking dictation was a kind, reserved, elderly man with iron-gray hair and a stern face. He wasted no time in his work, and Frannie’s fingers flew to keep pace with his gruff voice. When at last she went back to her machine she was fairly breathless with the speed she had been going. She sat down at her typewriter and began to work, determined to finish all these letters before the noon hour.

  She had been working nearly two hours at top speed when she became aware of two people coming straight toward her desk. One was Mr. Chalmers, her boss, and by his side a strange young man. At least, she had never seen him in the plant before.

  “Miss Fernley,” Mr. Chalmers said, “this young man has a message for you, from your mother, isn’t that it, Mr. Willoughby?”

  The young man bowed, but Frannie turned white.

  “Oh, my mother?” she exclaimed, springing to her feet, one small hand fl
uttering to her throat. “Has something happened?”

  “Please don’t be frightened,” said the young man. “Your mother isn’t very well. But she’s resting now, and I’m sure she’s going to be all right. She didn’t want you to be told, but the doctor thought you might be upset if you were not told at once. He told me to assure you that at present there is nothing for you to worry about, and he will see that you are notified if there is any need for you to come home.”

  “But—I don’t understand!” said the girl frantically. “How did she get a doctor? She was all alone with just my little sister, and she’s only a baby yet.”

  “Well she’s some baby!” said the young man emphatically. “When your mother fainted she ran across the river on the ice and told Lady Winthrop, and she sent her doctor over, so everything is all right now. We put your mother on the bed and the doctor called for his nurse, so your mother isn’t alone now, and you don’t need to worry. She was most anxious that you do not come home until the day’s work is over.”

  “Oh, that will be all right,” said Frannie’s boss kindly. “I can excuse you right away if you are anxious to go to your mother.

  “Oh, but I must go!” said the girl frantically. “We have just moved in there, and there isn’t anything in the house to eat yet. I must go and see that she has food. I’ll just finish that important letter you wanted to have at once, and then I’ll go. It’s almost done!” She turned toward her typewriter with a quick, nervous little movement, but young Willoughby put out a detaining hand.

  “Listen!” he said. “You needn’t worry about food. Mrs. Winthrop sent over a Thermos bottle of chicken soup, and another of coffee. She sent bread and butter and chicken and a quart of milk, too. You needn’t worry at all about something for them to eat. They have plenty. I took it over myself. Mrs. Winthrop knew you had just moved in and thought you might not be prepared for illness, so she sent over some things that were suitable for an invalid and a child. You don’t need to worry at all. And your mother was most anxious you should not be told. It was the doctor who felt you ought to know, as you might wish another physician called or something. So I agreed to tell you. But I’m sure your mother is in good hands. When I left she was eating spoonfuls of chicken broth and they were telling her she was to stay right there in bed and get a good rest. The nurse is staying, of course. It just happened that she left a case this morning and was glad to get a place where she could be useful until her next case comes on.”

  “Oh!” said Frannie, struggling to keep the tears back. “That is all very kind and wonderful. But I’m sure I ought to be at home. Mother will be so unhappy having strangers have to come in and look after her.”

  “No,” said young Willoughby, “she will be much more troubled if you do anything to upset your job just now. I know for I saw her face when she begged them not to tell you. In fact, the doctor told me he was giving her something to make her sleep for a little while, and by the time you get home she’ll be just waking up and won’t think there was anything much the matter perhaps.”

  “Oh, you are very kind and thoughtful. But we have never had to be such a lot of trouble to strangers.”

  “Well, don’t think of us as strangers, call us neighbors,” said the young man, with a confidence-inspiring smile that somehow loosened the tightness around the girl’s heart and made it possible for her to breathe again. She wavered a pale little white smile in answer.

  “You see, I’m sure you can trust the doctor. He’s very skillful. He is Dr. Ransom, Lady Winthrop’s own physician, and besides, he promised me he would go back again just before noon, and then will go straight to his office and from there telephone me how things are going. I am sure he will do that. And I promise to telephone you here immediately. May I do that, Mr. Chalmers?” He looked toward Frannie’s boss, who bowed assent graciously, and Frannie began to feel as if the reeling ground beneath her feet was gradually steadying.

  “Oh! That will help a lot,” she murmured. “But—the movers will be coming this afternoon with the rest of our furniture, and there will be nobody to tell them where to put things!”

  Her practical young eyes had taken on their frightened look again.

  “Mother would never lie still and let that go on. She will get right up and go to work unless I’m there!”

  “Not with Nurse Branner there!” laughed Valiant Willoughby. “You don’t know her if you think that could happen. But I do. She nursed me through a broken leg once, and believe me there isn’t a thing that woman doesn’t understand and can’t take charge of. You’ll find she’ll ferret out the most suitable spot for every article and have it placed there right on the dot, and no patient of hers will get out of bed and go to work. She’ll see to that! Now, will you be good, Miss Fernley? And I give you my word of honor to phone the latest news from your home at noon or know the reason why. Does that satisfy you?”

  “Thank you so much. That will be wonderful. Now I can go back to my work.”

  Then Mr. Chalmers interrupted.

  “Miss Fernley, I’m afraid it is going to be a strain on you to finish those letters I gave you this morning. If you like I’ll call Miss Dart and let you read them to her and she can take them down and type them, and then you can go home.”

  But Frannie’s business pride rose to the front. She clutched her precious notebook firmly and shook her head.

  “No indeed, Mr. Chalmers, I’d rather do them myself. You explained so fully what you wanted in some of the letters that I would hate to have you have to do that all over again. No, I’m sure since Mr. Willoughby has been so kind, that everything will be all right. I know that my mother would much rather have me stay here and make good than to rush home, since she has a good doctor and an efficient nurse. I would be silly to worry about her. I’ll bring the letters to you when I have them finished, and if there are any changes to be made I’ll have plenty of time to recopy.”

  “Well, if you are sure you won’t worry—”

  “No, I won’t worry,” promised Frannie with a grave, capable smile.

  The two men glanced at the girl with approval.

  “Well, good-bye, Miss Fernley,” said Willoughby. “I’ll be calling you around noon. And thank you, Mr. Chalmers, for your courtesy to us both.”

  The young man walked away, and the boss gave one keen look at his secretary and then slowly made his way back to his own office, while Frannie settled down to do some of the most tensely careful work she had ever done in the line of typing. She somehow felt that her skill was in question, she was being put to the test, and she must not let even her anxiety for her beloved mother steal her thoughts away from the duty of the moment. This must come first, even before her mother. She must make good here if she was to be able to carry on and keep the little family together.

  So with resolute will she turned her thoughts from the picture of the precious mother lying on the floor unconscious and the little, carefully-guarded baby sister flying alone across that great expanse of ice to call a stranger to help, and put her mind entirely on her work.

  Valiant Willoughby, walking swiftly down the flagstones of the street that ran between the plant where Frannie worked and his own headquarters which were about a quarter of a mile farther on down the river, was thinking of that girl, that sweet, fine young girl! With that charming self-control she had taken the startling news he had brought her, though it was most evident that it had shocked her tremendously. How sweet her eyes had been as she lifted them with that frightened, almost pleading look. Grave, lovely eyes, they were, though she seemed not much more than a little girl.

  And how quickly she had rallied to see where her first duty lay! Though it was plain it had been a struggle, because her heart was bidding her fly without delay to her sick mother. She seemed to be a rare girl, and really beautiful, though she was plainly dressed, with no pretense at the makeup and painted fingernails of most girls. Strange he should notice that in such a time, when he was not considering the girl as a girl at all, o
nly as a human being, a young working woman with a family to support!

  Well he hoped the doctor would be on time with his news from the sickroom, and that there would be something in his message that would give a possibility of cheer to that brave girl when he relayed the message at noon.

  So he went on to his own place of work and was presently immersed in duties that were fully as engrossing as Frannie’s. And the hours pranced on swiftly as hours have a way of doing when one is working hard, and noon not far away.

  And then, before Frannie realized how late it was, for she had not been keeping her mind on the time but looking ahead to see how much work was still to be done, there came a summons from the office boy, “Miss Fernley, telephone! Mr. Chalmers’s office!” and Frannie with her heart beating wildly hurried to the office. Oh, would there be bad news? Should she have gone home anyway? And then with trembling hands she lifted the phone, and there was that pleasant, reassuring voice of the young man.

  “Good news, Miss Fernley! Your mother is sleeping quietly, a natural sleep. The doctor did not give her the sleeping tablets after all. She took the nourishment well and fell right to sleep. Perhaps she was just very tired. The doctor says her pulse is decidedly stronger, and you have nothing to worry about. The nurse says she is glad to have a place to stay till her next case, so you can just trust her to look after things till your regular time for returning.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful!” breathed the girl softly. “I can’t thank you enough for taking all this trouble.”

  “It wasn’t trouble. It was a pleasure,” said Willoughby. “And now, what about the return trip for you? Can I help in any way? I can easily get the car and take you back much faster than if you went on the bus.”

  “Oh no, thank you. You’ve taken too much trouble already. I shall get home all right.”

  “Why, it wouldn’t be any trouble. I’d be glad to help you in any way I can. What time do you get done there? I didn’t think to ask Mr. Chalmers.”