A NEW FRIEND
The next day was a holiday, so Carolyn May did not have to get up at
half past seven and hurry to school. Nevertheless she and Prince were
early abroad.
Prince always kept perfect count of the school days. That was one
reason why Carolyn May was so sure he was "quite an interlectial dog."
On the school days when the little girl started forth, Prince went
only to the apartment door with her. But on this morning he ran ahead
down the stairs, leaping and barking and wagging his ridiculous tail,
confident that he and his little mistress were going for a walk.
The moment Carolyn May reached the vestibule and snapped the leash on
to Prince's collar, the little girl exclaimed:
"Oh, dear, me! where's the funeral?"
"There ain't no fun'ral, Car'lyn May," vouch-safed Johnny O'Harrity who
stood poised on his crutches at the bottom of the steps.
"Has the ambulance come for somebody, then?" demanded Carolyn May.
"Naw! There ain't no amb'lance!"
"What _is_ the matter?" cried the little girl, gazing in amazement at
the throng of children around the door. It seemed as though half of
those about her own age living on the block were present. And how they
all eyed Carolyn May!
"What ever is the matter?" she repeated. "Have--have I done anything?"
"Come on, Car'lyn May," said one bolder child--a girl with red hair and
a hole in her stocking. "You're goin' down to the candy store, ain't
you?"
"Why, no," said Carolyn May.
"I bet she's goin' to the drug store first off. _I_ would," declared
another, a boy this time.
"Why--why--"
"Let's go over to Maxey's. You get lots more for your money at Maxey's
than you do at the drug store."
"For--goodness--gracious--sake!" gasped Carolyn May. "Who ever told you
I was going to give all you children a treat? Of course I'm not! Why,
I couldn't! I've only got ten cents, and five of that's for Prince's
dinner."
"Aw, stingy!" went up the cry. "We know you've got lots of money,
Carolyn May."
"Who says so?" flashed back the badgered little girl. Then her gaze
fell upon the face of the janitor's boy. "Johnny O'Harrity!" she
gasped. "I do believe you've been telling stories about me."
"Ain't nuther," snapped the lame boy. "I seen all that money that man
gave you."
"He said it was two hundred dollars, Carolyn May," put in the
red-haired girl.
"Oh! Oh!" exploded Carolyn May.
"Never!" snarled Johnny. "I said it was twenty. I saw it. Carolyn May
said a man gave it to her."
"And of course the stingy thing wants to spend it all on herself,"
sneered the red-haired girl.
"Why, if I really had twenty dollars, of course I would treat you all,"
admitted Carolyn May, with an expansive smile. "Wouldn't it be nice? We
could all have ice-cream cones. I'd just love to! But of course that
money the man gave me for my friend doesn't belong to me."
"Stingy! Stingy!" was the unbelieving chorus.
For a moment Carolyn May almost "clouded up." She was hurt as well as
angered. Finally indignation over-rode the smart of the attack.
"Why, Johnny O'Harrity, you are a good-for-nothing! I told you that
money was given to me for a friend. It never belonged to me at all."
Then she went on to the clamorous urchins surrounding her and Prince:
"I'd like to treat you, but I can't--and that's just all there is to
it. But I shouldn't s'pose you'd _expect_ such a thing. Why! I'm not
even acquainted with some of you," and she looked sternly and directly
at the red-haired girl.
With Prince tugging at his leash she walked through the disappointed
crowd. The red-haired girl made a face at her, but nobody dared touch
Carolyn May when Prince was with her.
She held her head very high and her sweet eyes flashed. She would not
show them how bad she felt. And she did feel bad, for the far-flung cry
of "Stingy!" hurt her generous little soul. Carolyn May was learning a
lesson--the lesson of the evanescence of popularity.
"That mean, _mean_ Johnny O'Harrity!" she told Prince. "Just as his
grandma says, he is a 'good-for-nothing.' I don't believe I shall give
him a single, solitary treat ever again, so there!"
Yet half an hour later, when she returned with Prince's meat scraps
in a paper and a bag of candy for which she had expended her own
five cents, the wobegone picture of the lame boy huddled down on the
apartment house steps, smote the little girl to the quick.
Misled by Johnny's tale of treasure, the other children had deserted
the janitor's boy. Because he wore a brace on his foot and could only
hobble around, the others did not care much to play with Johnny. He had
to use his wits to gain their companionship even for a little while.
His tale of Carolyn May's wealth had brought him a certain publicity
for a brief time. Now he was marooned, like a shipwrecked sailor, on
the apartment house steps.
He turned his head away as the little girl and her dog came blithely
along the walk. Carolyn May's sunny nature had asserted itself again.
The cloud had passed. She saw that Johnny had been crying. There was a
mark on his face, too, where somebody had slapped him. Carolyn May was
sure it had been that red-haired girl!
No boy wishes to be openly sympathized with when he has been unmanly
enough to weep--and pitied by a girl least of all. Johnny O'Harrity
looked determinedly away as Carolyn May mounted the steps.
The little girl hesitated above him, looking down on his huddled
figure. Then, after releasing the eager Prince, who at once darted into
the vestibule, she opened the paper bag and transferred some of the
candy to her pocket.
Then she dropped the bag with a goodly share of sweets in it right into
Johnny's cap as it lay in his lap, and immediately ran, giggling, into
the house.
When Papa Cameron went downtown that day, Carolyn May went with him. It
was a holiday jaunt indeed when she was allowed to go to his office.
Later, her mother would go downtown, too, and they expected to shop
together. The delights of shopping in the big department stores never
palled on Carolyn May.
One never knows what may happen in this world. That, Carolyn May often
said, was what made it so very delightful. If one went forth expecting
to coast downhill and it proved to be warm enough to pick violets, she
only considered it a pleasant surprise. The unexpected gave zest to
existence.
This day the unexpected surely happened, and it became a day long to be
remembered by Carolyn May.
Mr. Cameron's position on the _Beacon_ was that of city editor. First
he was busy looking over the clippings from the other papers which the
exchange editors had put upon his desk, and then with his assignment
book. Not many reporters had as yet put in an appearance, and Carolyn
May was free to wander about the big room, which was always a delight
to her.
Everybody knew her, or made believe they did. Even the copy boys
grinned at Carolyn May, and the make-up man, whose hands were so
terribly grimy, was her particular friend.
Wandering back to her father's big flat-topped desk, she was in season
to see him greet a young man who had quickly followed his card in from
the gate where the messenger sat.
"Mr. Bassett?" questioned the city editor, scanning the caller rather
doubtfully.
The young man was not unattractive looking. He possessed a wealth of
waving brown hair which he tossed back now and then from his broad brow
by a quick, nervous gesture. His expression was frank, and if he was
not exactly a handsome lad he certainly was good to look upon.
There was nothing dissipated in his appearance; yet his clothing was
shabby, and a brilliant shine attempted to hide the ravages time had
made on his footwear. His whole manner and presence spoke loudly of
"putting his best foot forward."
"Mr. Bassett?" repeated Carolyn May's father. "You are, I take it, a
son of Mr. Henry Bassett, of Wall Street fame?"
"I haven't come to you boasting of my family connections--or
otherwise," replied the young man. "I cannot very well help my name,
and there is nothing about it of which I am ashamed. I am here on my
own behalf, to ask you for a chance, not as Henry Bassett's son, but as
Joe Bassett, Yale graduate, and quite unafraid of work. I am willing to
do anything that's clean."
"You have not been very successful since leaving college?" Mr. Cameron
suggested.
"You can easily guess that," the caller said bitterly. "But I do not
consider myself a failure," he quickly added. "Merely, all the holes I
have found have been round; and I am a square peg, Mr. Cameron."
"I see," said the city editor, nodding. "And why do you think you have
the germ of journalism within you? Many aspirants become failures in
this field, first of all."
"Then give me credit for the grace of originality," answered Bassett.
"I have tried almost everything else first. But of course I can write
English. I wrote with a certain facility for the college press. I heard
of a vacancy here. Mr. Mudge sent me to you, Mr. Cameron. If you can--"
"Oh! I will give you a trial," Mr. Cameron answered quickly. "Let me
see, Mr. Bassett; you are a married man, are you not? Sit down."
For some reason the applicant flushed slowly as he took the creaky
chair at the end of the editor's desk. "I have that honour," he said
briefly.
"Excuse me one moment," said Carolyn May's father as his telephone rang
and he put the receiver to his ear. The little girl drew nearer. Mr.
Joe Bassett caught her eye and Carolyn smiled and flushed.
"Who are you, little girl?" the young man asked.
Carolyn May told him. She was usually quite frank with new
acquaintances, though never bold. She approved of Mr. Joe Bassett,
and began to chatter to him very companionably. Perhaps Mr. Cameron
neglected to give the young man his immediate attention purposely for a
few moments that he might watch Carolyn May's way with him. The little
girl's father often said that he was willing to rely on Carolyn May's
intuition.
The city editor looked up from his assignment book at length.
"Here!" he said. "I take it you know the city well?"
"Quite," said Bassett, giving his attention at once to Mr. Cameron.
"Here's a matter that should make half a column of human interest
stuff. It is exclusive, too. The City News people evidently got nothing
of it."
Briefly he related Carolyn May's adventure with the pale lady the
previous afternoon.
"Here is the twenty dollar bill. Find the woman and give it to her. Get
her story. I have a hunch it will be worth telling. Little chance, of
course, of linking up the people who smashed her baby carriage with the
tale. Unless the traffic officer noted the automobile license number,
and that's not likely.
"But," added Mr. Cameron, smiling, "I'll give you a side-partner to
help you. How would you like to go up to the park with Mr. Bassett, and
see if you can find your pale lady, Carolyn May?"
"Oh! My! Yes!" ejaculated the little girl, her eyes shining.
"I'll telephone mamma and she will postpone her shopping trip, I know.
Business before pleasure always," and Mr. Cameron smiled. "How about
it, Bassett? Will you take care of her to the upper end of the park?
Carolyn knows her way home from there."
"At your orders, Mr. Cameron," said the young man, folding the banknote
and slipping it into a phantom-thin wallet as he rose to go.
"Humph!" The editor scanned the young man's wardrobe again. "By the
way, stop at the cashier's window for an advance on expense account,"
and he scribbled something on an order form and handed it to the new
reporter.
"Mr. Bassett, get all the facts you can and weave them into a readable
story. No fancy writing. Our readers are plain people. There's nothing
likely to break today of any account, so I'll hold half a column for
you."
The editor kissed Carolyn May and she started forth with Joe Bassett,
giving that young man her hand.
"Oh, I do hope we find my lady friend," she said eagerly. "And her
baby! I know she will be pleased to have a new baby carriage. That one
that got broken was a second-hand one, I think. There's a man sells
'em, and lots of other second-hand things, only two or three blocks
away from where I live. The pale lady's carriage was awfully old and
shabby looking."
Joe Bassett looked down at her curiously.