MRS. MARLOW'S SCHEME.
Mrs. Marlow was of a covetous disposition, and not overburdened with
principle. When she saw Mrs. Rollins drop a purse into her bureau
drawer, she immediately began to consider how she could manage to
appropriate it. It was necessary to get into the room when the widow was
out, but unfortunately for her plans, Mrs. Rollins seldom left her
daughter.
"Why can't she go out and get a bit of amusement like other folks?" she
muttered.
Presently Mrs. Marlow had a bright idea. If the widow could suspect that
some accident had happened to Rupert her absence could be secured.
She made her way to a district messenger office, and wrote a message
announcing that Rupert had been run over and had his leg broken.
Then she went home and waited for the success of her stratagem.
Opening her door, she soon saw the young messenger ascend the stairs.
"Where does Mrs. Rollins live?" he asked.
"On the next floor," she answered, smiling with satisfaction.
Soon--almost immediately--Mrs. Rollins came down stairs in a terrible
state of anxiety. She scarcely noticed Mrs. Marlow, who was watching her
through the open door of her room, but hurried on her sad errand.
"Now's my chance!" thought Mrs. Marlow. "I hope the brat's asleep."
She crept softly up stairs and stealthily opened the door of her
neighbor's room without knocking. Once in the room, she looked
cautiously toward the bed. Grace had her face turned toward the wall and
was in a light slumber.
"Heaven be praised!" thought Mrs. Marlow.
She walked on tiptoe to the bureau and opened the upper drawer. There
was the purse! Mrs. Rollins had gone out in such a hurry that she had
not thought to take it.
Mrs. Marlow took it hurriedly and dropped it into her capacious pocket.
Before she could leave the room Grace woke, and turning her head saw
her.
"What's the matter, Mrs. Marlow? Why are you here?" she asked, in a
startled voice.
"Drat the child!" muttered Mrs. Marlow, under her breath. Then aloud, "I
thought you was asleep, my dear, and I didn't want to disturb you."
"But why are you here? Where is my mother?"
"She went out in a hurry like as if she had heard bad news. I saw her go
out, and thought you might want something. So I came up, but I didn't
want to disturb you."
Grace was surprised. It was not like Mrs. Marlow to be so thoughtful and
considerate.
"No," she said, "I don't want anything--except my mother."
"She won't be gone long, my dear."
"Did she say anything to you when she went out?"
"No; but I saw a telegraph boy come upstairs with a message like, and
she went out directly afterwards."
"I wish I knew what she went out for."
"You'll know soon. I must hurry back now, for my kettle will be bilin'."
Once in her own room Mrs. Marlow opened the purse, after she had locked
the door. Her delight at discovering the gold piece was great.
"And it's a gold piece you've got, Mrs. Rollins!" she exclaimed. "Sure
you're in luck, Maggie Marlow, for once in your life. It's ten dollars,
as sure as you live. And I might be passin' it off for a quarter. I'll
have to get it changed quick."
Mrs. Rollins had taken a dollar in silver, but there was a dollar and a
half left besides the gold piece.
After she got into her own room it occurred to her that she might have
hunted up the basket of provisions and helped herself from what was
left.
"But it don't matter," she reflected. "With all this money I can buy
what I like."
She put on her bonnet and shawl, and going down stairs went to the
nearest grocery store.
"What can I do for you, Mrs. Marlow?" asked the grocer.
"You may give me a pound of tea, a pound of butter, a pound of sugar and
a loaf of bread," answered Mrs. Marlow, volubly.
"Are you sure you've got money enough to pay for them?" asked the
grocer, doubtfully.
"Yes, and more, too."
Upon this assurance the articles were put up, and Mrs. Marlow passed
over the gold eagle.
"A ten-dollar gold piece!" exclaimed the grocer, in surprise. "And where
did you get so much money? Have you come into a fortune?"
"Sure it was given me by a cousin of my husband--he's a rich man, and
lives uptown. It isn't often he thinks of me, but he opened his heart
this time."
This explanation seemed plausible, and the grocer gave Mrs. Marlow her
change--about nine dollars.
"I'm glad you are so lucky," he remarked. "I shall be glad to have you
come again--as long as the money lasts," he added, with a laugh.
"Sure I made a good excuse. He'll never mistrust," said Mrs. Marlow to
herself, as she went back to her room. "Now, Mrs. Rollins, you may come
back as soon as you like."
Mrs. Rollins was away three hours. She visited the locality mentioned in
the note she had received, but could hear nothing of a boy being run
over by the cars and having his leg broken. She went into a drug store,
but neither the druggist nor his clerks had heard of any such accident.
"Where can they have taken my boy?" she moaned. "If I could only find
him, and have him brought home!"
There seemed to be absolutely no clew. After a while she bethought her
of the sick girl she had left behind.
"If Grace wakes up she won't know what has become of me, and will feel
frightened. I ought to have told her, or left word with Mrs. Marlow."
Weary and disheartened, she went home and toiled up the stairs to her
own room.
"Where have you been, mother?" asked Grace, anxiously, "and what did you
go out for?"
Mrs. Rollins sank into a chair, and could not answer at first for very
weariness.
"What message did the telegraph boy bring you, mother?"
"What do you know about the telegraph boy, Grace? Were you awake when I
went out?"
"No, mother. Mrs. Marlow told me."
"She told you about a telegraph boy calling on me?"
"Yes. I waked up and saw her in the room. She said you had gone out, and
she thought the telegraph boy had brought you bad news."
"So he did, Grace," said the widow, and she burst into tears.
"What is it, mother? Anything about Rupert?"
"Yes. Your poor brother has been run over by the cars and got his leg
broken."
"Did you see him? Where is he?" asked Grace, anxiously.
"No. I couldn't find him. I went to where the note mentioned, but could
not hear anything about him."
"Perhaps he was taken to some hospital."
"Yes, I didn't think of that. I am sure he will send me a message as
soon as he gets a chance. I wish I knew where he is."
Mrs. Marlow was aware that the widow had returned, but hesitated about
going upstairs. She was afraid some questions might be asked that would
involve her in trouble. Besides, Mrs. Rollins might discover the loss of
the purse, and the evidence of Grace might expose her to suspicion.
"Drat the child? I wish she hadn't waked up. Then I could deny that I
had been in the room at all."
But Mrs. Rollins did not have occasion to go to the bureau. She was
absorbed in thoughts of Rupert. She did not know what course to take to
get further knowledge of him. It seemed hard, but she could think of
nothing except to wait for some message from him.
All at once she heard a familiar step on the stairs.
"It sounds like Rupert," said Grace, half-rising from the bed in her
eagerness.
Mrs. Rollins rose and hurried to the door. She reached it just as Rupert
opened it and dashed into the room.
"Oh, Rupert!" exclaimed the mother, joyfully. "Then your leg isn't
broken?"
"I should say not. I should like to settle with the one that told you
so. Tell me all about it, mother."
"So it was a telegraph boy who brought the message?" he said,
thoughtfully, after the explanation.
"Yes."
"Let me see the message."
Rupert examined it, but the handwriting was not one that he was familiar
with.
"Give it to me, mother. I'll find out the office it came from, and
perhaps in that way I can get some light on the mystery."
"I don't see what object anyone could have in playing such a cruel trick
on me," said the widow. "Thank heaven, it isn't true."
Rupert took the note and went to the nearest messenger office.
"Was any messenger boy sent from here this afternoon to Elizabeth
Street?"
The superintendent looked over the books.
"Yes," he answered.
"Can you tell who left the message?"
"It was a stout woman, of medium height."
"What did she wear?"
"She had on a faded shawl. I don't remember what kind of a hat she
wore."
But a light had already dawned on Rupert.
"It was Mrs. Marlow!" he said to himself.