ROSE AND HER ENEMY.
James Martin waited at the Fulton Ferry for the return of his emissary.
But he had to wait a long time, as the lodgings occupied by Miss Manning
and little Rose were rather more than a mile distant, and their progress
was somewhat delayed by their stopping to listen to a little Italian boy
and his sister, who were singing near the head of Fulton Street. Then
there was a difficulty in crossing Broadway, on account of the stream of
vehicles. Owing to these causes, it was an hour and a quarter before the
messenger returned. James Martin had about made up his mind that the boy
had given up the quest, and was starting away in vexation and
disappointment, just as he appeared in sight.
"Well, you've been gone long enough," he said, roughly. "Why didn't you
stay all night?"
"I came as quick as I could. It's a long ways," said the boy. "Then they
stopped two or three times."
"Did you find out where they lived?" asked Martin, eagerly.
"Yes, I followed 'em clear to the door."
"Where is it?"
"Where's the half dollar you promised me?" said the boy, with
commendable caution.
"I'll give it to you when you've told me where it is."
"I want it first."
"Do you think I won't give it to you?" demanded Martin, angrily.
"Maybe you will, and maybe you won't. I never saw you before."
"I'll give you the money as soon as you tell me."
"It's No. 125 Centre Street."
"All right, my lad, I'll pay you when I get ready as long as you've made
such a fuss about it."
"Well," said the boy, coolly, "I guess you won't make any more out of it
than I do."
"Why not?" asked Martin suspiciously.
"Because I've told you the wrong street and number."
"Is that so?"
"If you don't believe it, go to 125 Centre Street, and see if you can
find them."
"You're a young rascal," said Martin, angry at being foiled.
"Maybe I am; but I don't mean to be cheated by you or any other man."
"I've a good mind to give you a thrashing."
"You'd better if you want to sleep in the station-house to-night,"
returned the boy, not in the least alarmed.
"So you were going to tell me the wrong place, and take my money, were
you?"
"No; if you'd given me the money, I'd have told you right afterwards."
"Well, here's your money," said Martin, taking out fifty cents.
"I want seventy-five cents now."
"What for?"
"Because you tried to cheat me."
"Then I won't give you anything."
"All right. Then you must find out for yourself where they live."
"Come, boy, don't be foolish. Here's your fifty cents."
"Keep it yourself till there's twenty-five more."
Further effort proving unavailing, James Martin recalled the boy, who
had already started to go, and very unwillingly complied with his
demand.
"Well," said the boy, depositing the money carefully in his pocket, "now
I'll tell you. It's No. — Franklin Street, near the North River."
"Are you telling me the truth?" asked Martin, suspiciously, for he would
never have thought of this quarter.
"Yes, it's the truth. If you don't believe it, you can go and see for
yourself."
"Franklin Street!" repeated Martin to himself. "Perhaps it's true. The
boy's a deep one. He thought I wouldn't find him out there. Perhaps
he'll find himself mistaken. I'd like to see him when he finds the girl
gone."
James Martin, not relying wholly on the boy's information, determined to
go round and find the place indicated, and see if he couldn't ascertain
definitely whether it was correct. If so, he would lay his plans
accordingly.
Following up this determination, twenty minutes later found him standing
in front of the house. But he could not, without inquiring, obtain the
desired information, and this he hardly liked to do, lest it should be
reported to Rough and Ready, and so put him on his guard.
He stood undecided what to do; but chance favored him. While he was
considering, he saw the newsboy himself come up the street and enter the
house, with a loaf of bread under his arm. He was just returning from a
bakery near by, and the bread was to form a part of the supper to which
all three brought excellent appetites.
James Martin crouched back in a door-way, in order to escape
observation, at the same time pulling his hat over his eyes. The
precaution, however, proved unnecessary, for the newsboy never looked
across the street, and was far enough from suspecting the danger that
menaced the little household. He was thinking rather of the nice
supper,—a little better than usual,—which was being prepared in honor of
the holiday, and thinking how much more pleasantly they were situated
than in the room at Leonard Street, on the other side of the city.
"It's all right!" muttered Martin to himself with satisfaction. "The boy
told me the truth, and I don't mind the seventy-five cents, as long as
I've found out where they live. They'll find I aint so easily fooled as
I might be. A day or two'll tell the story."
He had learned all he wished to know, and walked back to Broadway, where
it is unnecessary to follow him.
The next day Rose and Miss Manning were sitting together in the neat
little room to which both had become attached. Miss Manning was sewing
as usual. Rose was sitting on a stool at her feet, with her eyes fixed
on a small reading-book.
"I think I know my lesson, Miss Manning," she said at last, raising her
eyes.
"Very well, Rose, I am ready to hear you."
The seamstress laid down her work, and Rose standing by her side, read
the lesson to her without a mistake.
"Didn't I say it well, Miss Manning?" she asked, proudly.
"Yes, Rose, you are doing famously; I am quite proud of my pupil."
"I shall soon get through my book. Then Rufie will have to buy me
another."
"I have no doubt he will be very glad to do so, Rose. He is very anxious
that you should get along fast."
"Isn't he a good boy, Miss Manning?"
"Yes, he is a very kind, considerate brother."
"I like it so much better than when I lived with—Mr. Martin. Do you
think I shall ever see him again, Miss Manning?"
"I cannot tell, Rose. I hope not; for I do not think you would be happy
with him."
"He used to drink rum, and it made him so cross I used to be afraid of
him."
"Rum ruins a great many people, Rose."
"I don't see how anybody can like it," said the little girl. "Once
fath—I mean Mr. Martin, brought some home in a bottle, and when he was
out, I thought I would just taste a little—"
"O Rose!"
"Only a very little, a tiny spoonful, to see how it tasted. But it was
so strong, and tasted so bad, I could not swallow it. I don't see how
anybody can like it."
"Yes, Rose, it does seem strange. But I am going to ask you to go on a
little errand for me."
"I should like to go," said the little girl, jumping up. "What is it,
Miss Manning?"
"I need a spool of cotton. You know the little store round the corner."
"Lindsay's?"
"Yes. I should like to have you go there and buy me another spool, the
same number as this. I will give you the spool, so that you can show it
to the man behind the counter."
"Yes, Miss Manning."
"Here are ten cents. You can bring me back the change. If you want to,
you can stop at the candy-shop, and buy a stick of candy out of what is
left."
"Oh, thank you, Miss Manning. Shan't I buy you a stick too?"
"No, Rose, I have got over my love for candy."
"Didn't you use to like it when you were a little girl?"
"Yes, Rose; but now make haste, for I have only a needleful of cotton
left, and I want to finish this work to-night, if I can."
Rose put on her bonnet, and went downstairs, proud of the commission
with which she was intrusted. She was actually going shopping, just as
grown women do, and this gave her a feeling of dignity which made her
carry her little form with unusual erectness. She little suspected that
the danger which her brother and herself most dreaded lay in wait for
her in the street beneath; that she was about to be torn from the
pleasant home which she had begun to enjoy so much. Nor did Miss Manning
suspect to what peril she was exposing her young charge, and what grief
she was unconsciously laying up for Rufus and herself.
James Martin was lurking near the house, and had been lounging about
there for three or four hours He had notified his employer in the
morning that he had business in New York, and should be unable to work
that day. He had also given notice to his landlady that he expected to
bring his daughter home that night, and he wanted her to prepare
accommodations for her.
With the design of procuring her he had come over and repaired to
Franklin Street; but Rose and Miss Manning seldom stirred out in the
morning, and he had watched and waited in vain until now. He had made
several visits to a neighboring groggery and indulged in potations which
helped to while away the time, but he was getting very impatient, when,
to his great joy, he saw Rose come out upon the sidewalk, _and alone_,
which was better still. He had made up his mind to claim her, even if
she were accompanied by Miss Manning; but this might excite a
disturbance, and he knew there would be danger of interference from the
police, which he did not court. So he considered it a remarkable stroke
of good luck when he saw Rose coming out alone.
"There she is," he said to himself. "I'll soon nab her. But I wonder
where she is going."
He might have seized her at once, but he thought it best not to do so.
Very likely there might be somebody who might witness the seizure, who
would know that she was living with Miss Manning, and might be inclined
to interfere. He thought it would be better to follow her a little
distance, and effect the capture in another locality.
Rose pursued her way, unconscious of the danger that menaced her. She
entered the store, made her purchase, and it wasn't till she had gone a
little away from the store that she felt a heavy hand upon her shoulder,
and, looking round, to her indescribable dismay and terror, recognized
her stepfather.