AN EPISODE.
The next morning no one arose very early. They were all quite willing
to rest. Jim, first of all, was up and out. He had been working over a
list of boarding houses as he had quite decided to take the position,
and his salary would not permit him to live in an expensive hotel. He
had not been very successful and on returning to the hotel found Aunt
Betty reading in their sitting room.
"Aunt Betty," said Jim.
"Yes," answered Aunt Betty, "what is it? Do you want to talk business
with me?"
"Yes, business," responded Jim, doubtfully. "I have been out all the
morning trying to find a boarding house."
"A boarding house?" echoed Aunt Betty.
"Yes, a boarding house," answered Jim. "You see I have quite decided
to take the position. I received a letter from Mr. Ford's secretary
saying Mr. Ford is abroad, and not expected back for some time. And
if I work there at the Edison, I must live in a boarding house not too
far away from there. I didn't have much luck."
"Why not ask Mr. Ludlow? He might know of a place," suggested Aunt
Betty. "Or maybe you could see if there is a room at that place where
Ruth, Miss Boothington, is staying. You remember her saying that she
was tired of boarding house meals, do you not?"
"I never thought of that," added Jim. "Suppose I ask Dorothy where she
lives, maybe she knows."
"Yes, call her," replied Aunt Betty.
"Dorothy! Dorothy! Where are you?" called Jim.
"Here, in Alfy's room, I have been writing in my diary," answered the
girl. "I will be there in just a minute. Oh, dear," she continued to
herself, "I just can't seem to ever write to Frau. Every time I start
on that letter someone calls, and then I stop writing, and it is so
long before I can get at it again. I have to begin all over."
"Well, young man, what is it this time?" she said, turning to Jim as
she entered the room.
"It's just this, Dorothy. You see, I am going to take the position in
New York and I must live here," started Jim.
"Ah, Jim, you never told me anything about really taking a position. I
just supposed that--well, I don't quite know--but I didn't think you
really meant to do it," interrupted Dorothy.
"I do, Dorothy, mean it. And I have made up my mind to take it and
work, so hard that some day I can make a man out of myself like Dr.
Sterling and some others I know," replied Jim. "But to get down to the
point why we called you, Aunt Betty thought you might help in finding
a boarding place for me. You see, I must live here in the city, and
it's hard to find a good boarding place. Miss Ruth, last night, said
something about her place. Do you know where it is?"
"No, Jim, I can't say that I do, but I heard her say that it was down
on lower Fifth avenue--way downtown, she said. I might call up Mr.
Ludlow and find out right now, or you can wait till to-night, for I
play at that concert at the Hippodrome this evening, you know."
"Call him up now, dear," suggested Aunt Betty from her corner. "Then
you and Jim can take a walk there this afternoon. Alfy and I can find
something to amuse ourselves with. We could take one of those stages
and ride up Fifth avenue on it. It's a fine ride on a nice day like
this."
"Very well," answered Dorothy, immediately going to the telephone, and
acting on her aunt's suggestion.
Jim and Aunt Betty sat quietly by till she had finished her
conversation at the telephone.
"Mr. Ludlow says that Ruth lives on Fifth avenue, near Washington
square, and it's a very large, old-fashioned boarding house run by an
elderly southern lady, who, being in very adverse circumstances, had
to take hold and do something. He said that the rooms were fairly
large, the meals first rate and the charges moderate, and that we had
better see her at once because she has usually a pretty full house,"
added Dorothy.
"Why not start at once, dear," replied Aunt Betty. "Then you can come
home and practice this afternoon, and as Alfy and I will be out there
will be nothing to distract you."
"Yes, let's go now, Dorothy, if you can spare the time to go with me,"
pleaded Jim. "Where is it near?"
"He says it is near Ninth street," replied Dorothy. "All right, Jim, I
will be ready in a few minutes. Oh dear," she sighed to herself,
"poor Frau will not get her letter very soon, I guess. Well, I can
write this afternoon, after I practice, and I will make the letter
extra long so as to make up for the time I have taken to write her."
"Good-bye, Aunt Betty," called Dorothy a short time later.
"Good-bye, Aunt Betty," echoed Jim. "We'll be back soon."
With that the two disappeared and Aunt Betty from her corner sighed as
she thought of what a charming pair the pretty Dorothy and the tall
youth made.
"Shall we ride?" asked Jim.
"No. Let's walk, it is not far, only a few blocks," said Dorothy.
"That's just what I wanted to do," replied Jim, "only I was most
afraid you would not care to. We haven't had a good walk in a long
time."
They walked on silently as the streets were so crowded and there was
lots to see, and the crossings required much attention, these two not
being used to the busy streets of New York, where one has to look in
all directions at once and keep moving lively to avoid being run into
by the many automobiles or trucks that are hurrying along.
Finally Dorothy, observing the number on the houses, said: "Here we
are, this is the house."
Up the steps they ran and Jim gave the old-fashioned bell a vigorous
pull. "Ting-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling," vaguely sounded from somewhere
within and presently a pleasant faced young girl with white cap and
apron and dark dress, said in a low voice, "Whom do you wish to see?"
Jim answered, "Will you tell Miss Boothington that Miss Dorothy
Calvert wishes to see her?"
Slowly they followed the neat maid into the old fashioned parlor and
waited there for her to take the message to Ruth.
"Oh, Jim," whispered Dorothy, very softly putting her hand on Jim's
arm. "Jim, if I were you I should love to stay here. It is more like a
home, a real home than any place I have been in, in the big city."
"Yes, it is. And it is so quiet and restful. I do hope there will be
room for me here," answered Jim.
Just then they heard foot-steps on the stairs and in a second Ruth's
cheery voice greeted them with a "Hello!" from the hall.
"Well, this is a surprise. I didn't expect to see you till to-night,
Dorothy. Have I you to thank for bringing her to me?" she asked,
smiling at Jim.
"Yes, I guess so," replied Dorothy. "We came on business."
"On business!" echoed Ruth.
"Yes, on business," answered Jim. "It's just this: You see I have
taken a position in New York and I have to board here. We didn't know
of any place and Aunt Betty thought of something you had said the
night before about boarding-house meals."
"Yes," continued Dorothy, "and I called Mr. Ludlow up and he
recommended this place and we came right down here, and we have just
fallen in love with the place at first sight. Haven't we, Jim?"
"Wait. Let me see. You want to see Mrs. Quarren. She is out just now,
but she is such a dear. I know! You must both stay to lunch. It is
just eleven forty-five and we lunch here at twelve. You see so many of
the boarders here do not come home at noon-time, they work too far to
come back, so that there will be plenty of room. And then you can see
how the table suits you. Mrs. Quarren is always in for meals. You see
she is just a great dear mother to us all. I won't know what to do
without her."
"I will lend you Aunt Betty when you are with us," volunteered
Dorothy. "But we must let her know we are going to stay here for
lunch."
"I'll telephone her if you will show me where the 'phone is," spoke up
Jim.
"Right this way, please," said Ruth, leading Jim into the hall where
he saw the little table and 'phone. "Come back to the parlor when you
are through," and Ruth went back to Dorothy.
"You are to play to-night, are you not?" she inquired.
"Yes, and are you to sing?" questioned Dorothy.
"Right after you play. We are each to do just one thing to-night. I
am going to sing 'Still vie de Nochte,' or in English, 'Still as the
Night,' you see it's just a little German song. What are you to play?"
asked Ruth.
"I thought I was to play two selections--Mr. Ludlow said so----"
started Dorothy.
"Yes, dear, you were," interrupted Ruth, "but he changed his mind
after I had coaxed him and he has consented to let me sing so we each
can have one number then."
"Well, then I will play that old medley, 'Southern Airs.' I like that
best of all. It makes me think of home," answered Dorothy.
"And I always can just fairly see old Bellevieu when you play
that piece," added Jim from the doorway. "Aunt Betty said it was
satisfactory, and that she and Alfy would go out this afternoon
and for you to come home soon and practice."
Just then the luncheon bell sounded and the three went quickly down
stairs. They were seated at a small table near the window. Ruth always
sat there and as the other guests at that table were never present for
luncheon, Dorothy and Jim could sit there too. So the three had the
little table all to themselves.
Just as soon as she could, Mrs. Quarren came over to the table, for
she had returned from her duties outside. Ruth presented Dorothy and
Jim to her, and as she sat pleasantly chatting, Jim told her of his
want. She said she would see him after dinner in the library.
"Well, Dorothy, you come to my room with me while Jim sees Mrs.
Quarren in the library," said Ruth, rising and carefully pushing her
chair back under the table.
"You are very kind. I would like to see your room. You lead and I
will follow," answered Dorothy.
"Oh, the room is not much. You come too, Jim, and I will show you
where the library is," said Ruth, leading the way upstairs. "Right in
there, Jim."
Jim entered the library and the girls ascended to the floors above.
"I am going out this afternoon with a friend," said Ruth. "I promised
I would go shopping with her," and she opened the door of her room.
The room was a large, sunny one with simple furnishings.
"I'll sit here," announced Dorothy, "till you are ready to go."
"I will just hustle with my things and be ready in a moment," replied
Ruth, suiting her actions to her words.
In a very few minutes the girls were ready and slowly descended the
stairs again to wait for Jim in the parlor.
"Well, here I am. Room engaged and all," said a cheery voice from the
hall which they knew as Jim's.
"Where is it?" questioned Ruth.
"Yes, where?" echoed Dorothy.
"Where do you suppose?" mocked Jim. "Well, I will tell you. Ruth it is
your room."
"My room!" exclaimed the girl.
"Yes, your room," laughed Jim. "I am to have it next Wednesday. Mrs.
Quarren said you were to leave it Tuesday."
"Tuesday!" interrupted Dorothy, in a very much surprised tone of
voice.
"Yes, dear, Tuesday. Didn't Mr. Ludlow tell you?" added Ruth. "Tuesday
we go to Washington on the noon train."
"Ah, is it so soon? I didn't know it. It makes me feel so sad. I hate
to leave New York now, just as I am becoming used to it," wailed
Dorothy. "Oh, I just must go back to the hotel. I have to practice and
it is getting late."
"Come on, Dorothy," said Jim, rising and walking to the door.
"Good-bye till to-night," said Dorothy.
"Good-bye, dear, till to-night," answered Ruth.
With that Dorothy and Jim made their departure for home. The way back
was rather quiet, for the news that the girls were to start so soon
had made Jim sad. And Dorothy couldn't help but feel the same way.
When at last they had silently reached the hotel and had gone up to
the rooms, Dorothy spoke.
"Jim, do you want to stay here and be my audience while I practice and
tell me what you think of my playing?"
"Yes, indeed I do," answered Jim, gladly grasping the opportunity to
be near the girl, and when he had seated himself in a great chair
added, "I'll be more than audience, I'll be newspaper reporter and a
very exacting and critical one at that. And then, when you finish I
will tell you what I would put in the paper about you and your
playing."
"That's a bargain," answered Dorothy, taking her violin in hand. "I
will start right now."
So saying she commenced playing slowly at first, anon faster and
faster, then again more slowly that beautiful composition, "A Medley
of Southern Airs," putting all her love and yearning for her own
southern home into the effort. Jim from his chair by the window could
picture each phase of the piece, and when she had finished with the
beautiful sad strains of "Home, Sweet Home," he could hardly control
himself, and man that he was, he could not keep the tears from his
eyes.
For a brief moment neither spoke. Dorothy laid down her violin and
came over to him. Jim arose and took both her hands, saying softly,
"Dorothy girl, it was wonderful, but it makes me so sad. I just can't
bear to think of parting from you."
"Jim, dear, you too feel sad?" she questioned softly, but withdrawing
her hands.
Jim let the little hands slowly drop but took her by the shoulders,
looking eagerly into her eyes. "You will miss me?" he questioned,
"really miss me?"
"Of course I will, dreadfully so," she answered.
Then without a word of warning he drew her gently to him and kissed
her full on the lips. For one brief moment they clung together, then
Dorothy withdrew his arms.
"Jim, oh, Jim! what have you done?" she sobbed.
"Girl, I just couldn't help it," answered Jim, gently drawing her into
his embrace again. "Dorothy, little Dorothy, didn't you know before?
Couldn't you guess?"
"Jim, dear, I never thought of you that way, and it's so new and
strange. I can't realize it all." And with that Dorothy rushed away
and into her own room.