A CHINESE GIRL STEALER.
When Ralph Moore, Marion’s brother-in-law, opened the door he was
astonished to find her trembling with terror.
“Why, sister, I thought you were not coming home to-night,” he began,
but the girl stopped him with a quick explanation.
“Carlotta trapped me,” she said, hotly, “but I escaped from her safely!
Now, who do you suppose that fellow was, the dreadful creature that
just grabbed my arm right here on the steps. My shriek must have
frightened you awfully, brother.”
Ralph Moore looked up and down the street, but there was no one in
sight, so in another minute they went up to his apartment.
Dollie Marlowe, or Dollie Moore, as she was now, had been married only
three weeks, but her little flat already had a homelike look, and both
she and her husband were radiantly happy.
As Marion had said, Dollie’s face was the prettier of the two, but it
was a babyish prettiness that meant weakness and uncertainty, while
Marion’s was the glorious beauty of decision.
As Marion told them of her evening’s experience Dollie’s rosy cheeks
paled, while Ralph Moore ran his fingers through his black curls in
excitement.
“What a bad, wicked woman,” cried the little bride, indignantly. “To
think of her subjecting you to such an insult. Why, she is a disgrace
to her sex, isn’t she, darling?”
“She is indeed,” was her husband’s fond answer as he stopped in his
excited pacing to and fro, to kiss his wife’s soft, dimpled shoulder.
“It is a shame that our dear sister should have to come in contact
with such a creature, and to think that Marion was trying to do her a
kindness.”
Marion had removed her hat and unbound her beautiful hair, and now sat
sipping a cup of chocolate that Dollie had hurriedly made for her.
“What puzzles me most is that man,” she said, thoughtfully. “Oh, what a
terrible face he had—it was hideously scarred and disfigured.”
“He was probably drunk,” was her brother-in-law’s answer. “And no doubt
he mistook you for some one else. I’ll tell the officer on the beat to
keep a look-out for him in future.”
“Well, it is very evident that there was no officer on the beat
to-night,” said Marion, laughing, “for I screamed as loudly as I
possibly could, and I only succeeded in awakening the echoes.”
“Oh, the cop was probably in the corner saloon,” said Ralph Moore,
disgustedly; “still, it’s lucky you screamed and scared the fellow. No
one knows what he might have done if you hadn’t, sister.”
“Oh, I have some news for you,” said Dollie, suddenly. “I got a letter
from our old friend, Bert Jackson, to-day. He is coming home to be
ready to sail for Europe with his foster-father next week, and in the
fall he is going to college.”
“That is good news,” said Marion, with a happy smile. “I wondered why
we hadn’t heard from Bert since your wedding, but I suppose he has been
having such a good time with his new parents in Canada that he did not
have time to write to his old friends.”
“He is a lucky boy,” said Dollie, thoughtfully. “Why, just think, only
a few months ago he was a waif in a county poor farm! Oh, how lucky it
was that he ran away. It is not every poor orphan that has such good
fortune.”
“And I am so glad that I helped him to escape,” said her sister,
laughing. “I gave him five dollars the night he ran away—it was all I
had, for I was only a country girl then, and you know, sister, that our
father did not give us much money.”
“Poor old dad,” said Dollie, with the tears springing to her eyes. “He
has been a different man since you paid off the mortgage on the farm,
Marion. Mother says he is so gentle that we would hardly know him.”
This illusion to one of Marion’s many noble deeds made the fair girl
very happy. It had been the greatest pleasure of her life to be able to
pay off that mortgage on the homestead.
“It is a pity that it took him so long to learn that ‘gentleness is
best,’” she said, sadly. “Poor old father would have been far happier
if he had learned it earlier. We would have all been happier in our
life in the country.”
They sat and talked a little while longer, then retired for a few
hours’ rest before daylight.
When Marion awoke in the morning she found that Ralph had already
bought the morning papers, and, as usual, she glanced them over before
eating her breakfast.
“Oh, how kind the critics are to me,” she said as she read the notice
of her singing in the _Star_. “And how dreadfully they speak of
Carlotta, saying that her voice has lost its freshness, and all that
sort of thing, I can hardly blame the woman for disliking me.”
“Well, she has let her professional jealousy go too far,” said Ralph,
hotly. “When she tries such tricks as she did last night it is high
time she was halted.”
“I guess Mr. Graham will read her a lecture to-day,” said Marion,
slowly, “It remains to be seen what effect it has upon her.”
“Here is a dreadful thing,” said Dollie, who was glancing over a part
of the paper. “A young girl has just been rescued from an opium den. It
seems she was stolen by Chinamen and kept a prisoner in one of their
houses.”
“Oh, that sort of thing happens every day,” said her husband, quickly.
“There’s a tremendous traffic in ‘white slaves,’ as they call them.
Those yellow devils have a mania for white girls in this country.”
“I think it is horrible,” said Marion, shuddering. “It is almost
incredible that such horrors can exist in a Christian country.”
“Nevertheless they do,” said Ralph, a little absently. He was busy at
that moment reading the rest of the article. Suddenly he almost sprang
from his chair at the breakfast table, and a look of horror overspread
his countenance.
“Quick, Marion! Describe that fellow that you saw last night on the
steps. Was he small and black, and was his face all scars, and was
there anything about him that looked like a Chinaman?”
Marion thought a little before she answered.
“He certainly was small and had a yellowish skin, and his face was all
scars, and his eyes black and beady. Come to think of it, he did look
like a Chinaman, Ralph, but for goodness sake do tell us what is the
matter!” she said, earnestly.
“That fellow is wanted by the police,” was Ralph Moore’s prompt
answer. “He is a sort of an agent for rich Celestials in the city, he
goes around trying to steal young girls, and they say that in several
instances he has been successful.”
Both Dollie and Marion stared at him in astonishment for a minute, then
Marion’s gray eyes flashed ominously, and her lips curved in a smile.
“Well, I pity him if he ever tries to steal me,” she said, decidedly,
“for I have no special liking for ‘chow-chop-suey.’”