SERGEANT MURPHY ASSISTS
“Jack! have you your banjo? And Ellen, have you the box of candy Daddy
gave us?” Jane called over her shoulder to the two who were sitting in
the tonneau as they were driving over to the station to catch the
train that was to take them to New York.
“You better keep your eyes on the road if you are to keep us in the
road,” gently reproved Mr. Pellew from his seat beside his daughter.
“We’ve got everything we ought to have, but what have you remembered?
Nothing for a change?” teased Jack, for Jane was an almost proverbial
forgetter.
“Anything important that you have forgotten I can parcel post to you
after I come back from New York,” said Aunt Min, who was to go along
to chaperon them at the hotel in New York. The girls had some shopping
to do and were going up a few days prior to their final departure to
accomplish it.
“Aunt Min, you are a perfect peach, and I am so glad you finally
joined the Camp Fire Girls.” Ellen reached over and patted
affectionately the hand of the woman once disliked by the entire band
of Jane’s friends and now the pet of all of them.
As the car, piloted by Jane, whirled up to the station, a rather fat
young man was seen dashing frantically around, talking first to the
station agent and then to the baggage man, all the time violently
mopping his face with a huge white handkerchief.
“There’s Charlie Preston in a stew as usual,” giggled Jane, pointing
to the distraught young man, who was Mabel’s fiancé.
Suddenly Charlie stopped his gyrations and his face broke into a
really charming smile.
“I was trying to find out from some of these misguided officials if
you all had made arrangements to go on this train, for if you weren’t,
I wasn’t either, but not one word could I get out of them but a polite
‘Speak to you after the train leaves,’ and, saving your presence, Miss
Min, how the deuce would that help me?” Charlie exploded to his
friends. He was a strange mixture of calmness in times of stress and
great irritability and excitability in times of petty trials.
“All aboa’d!” cried the white-jacketed and very black porter.
“Oh! Daddy, good-bye, good-bye, I am going to miss you all the time,
no matter how much fun I am having,” and Jane ruffled Mr. Pellew’s
collar in the last of a series of bear hugs that had begun the night
before.
“Don’t make such rash promises but write me occasionally, and Jack,
you telegraph me as soon as you get to New York. I hope the rooms I
wired for will be all right. And now I am going because I won’t feel
so alone if I leave before the train pulls out,” he said and drove off
with a great show of bravery.
At last they were settled comfortably for the long trip to New York,
Aunt Min with a magazine and the young people planning good times for
the few days they were to be in the city before going aboard the
yacht.
“We can go to see Emmeline Cerrito. Jack, you know she is our
beautiful French friend who is studying for grand opera. She hopes to
make her appearance this fall. Maybe she will sing for us. I don’t
think I’ve ever heard a lovelier voice; have you, Jane?” Ellen loved
music.
“And Sarah Manning is in training at the Presbyterian Hospital; we
will certainly look her up and get her to come to dinner if she can
get any time off,” suggested Jane.
“I want to get something for the ship’s library,” said Charlie, “and I
think Carroll’s ‘Hunting of the Snark’ would be in order. It will help
to comfort me during the first three or four days out. You know I’m
nobody’s able seaman. My last year at college a bunch of us raced a
yacht down to Bermuda and I want to say that, for three days, I wasn’t
anything but in the way.” And poor Charlie winced at the unhappy
memory.
“But that was one of those narrow little racing types,” soothed Ellen,
“and Mabel says her father’s is a regular cruising boat and awfully
comfortable.”
“Anyway, my beamish boy, I’ll stick by you and play ‘Heave-ho, my
hearties’ on the trusty banjo while you lean o’er the rail,” Jack
grinned.
“You boys are rather horrid,” said Aunt Min from behind her magazine.
“And, by the way, I expect to be taken to the theatre every night, so
don’t make too many plans.”
“Tickled to death to take you to any musical comedy you pick and to
any roof garden afterwards,” said Jack. “You know, nothing really
good runs in New York in the summer months.”
“And I suspect that you are not at all sorry,” teased Aunt Min.
“Speaking of plays, that reminds me that Betty Wyndham is at
Provincetown with the Provincetown Players for the summer getting
ready for next winter. She got them to take her on this spring. I know
we will go to Plymouth and if we are that near we just can’t help
going to see Betty,” said Ellen, planning happily.
“So we will really see all of our friends by hook or crook during the
summer.” Then Jane yawned and announced that she was going to crawl
into her berth and go to sleep.
When New York was finally reached, it took two taxis to deposit the
travelers at their hotel. There the little party separated, Aunt Min
going to her room to rest, the boys going out to “see the town,” and
Ellen and Jane going to do their shopping.
“I love the way the New Yorkers hurry along all so intent on where
they are going and so certain they are going to get there in the end,”
said Ellen. “Neither one of us has a really working knowledge of the
city so, no doubt, we will be lost one million times on the way to
Abercrombie & Fitch’s.”
“Then we will just ask some genial Irish cop,” said Jane lightly. “I
have never paid any attention to the ridiculous warnings of people who
say, ‘Never talk to somebody you aren’t certain of.’ I flatter myself
that I can tell at a glance whether a person is the kind of person to
talk to or not.”
Deep in an argument in which Ellen favored getting gray flannel sport
shirts and Jane khaki ones, the two girls got on the subway.
“We have been on here ten minutes, surely we will be there soon,” said
Ellen glancing at her watch.
“So we would,” giggled the irrepressible Jane, “if we were going the
right way. I noticed just now that we were on a car marked Bronx when
we ought to be on a downtown express. I was going to give you to the
next stop to notice it; after that of course I would have told you.”
“Next time we better not talk so much,” observed Ellen wisely as the
girls rose to leave the car.
“Whew! I would like to come up for air. It’s so stuffy down here I
can’t think which way we ought to go. If we just had some working
hypothesis of where we are, then we might dope out some route to
take,” lamented Jane.
Both girls looked round them with rather amused expressions. Finally,
Ellen squealed and punched Jane. “There’s your genial Irish cop; go
over and ask him how we must get to Abercrombie & Fitch’s.”
Jane marched over to the big fat policeman, plainly from Erin. He
grinned invitingly at the world in general and, as she stopped in
front of him, at her in particular.
“Yes, Mum,” he said.
“We took that horrid old Bronx subway and we didn’t mean to,” began
Jane by way of lucid explanation.
“And not the first are ye, young lady, to do the same. Indade, it
looks to me like folks only get to the Bronx by tryin’ to go some
other place,” the big man announced.
Then Jane told him where they did want to go.
“I’m off duty now and it’s goin’ that way I am myself, so if it
pleases ye I’ll just take ye,” said Sergeant Murphy.
Ellen had come up to them and was very profuse in her thanks, but the
Sergeant brushed them aside with a hearty “’Tis nothin’.”
The two girls seated on either side of the big Irishman kept him
grinning with their amusing chatter about nothing. The three of them
were entirely oblivious of the utter unconventionality of the
situation and would have been much surprised if they had heard the old
women across the aisle whispering to one another.
It is certain that Ellen would have been very indignant if she had
known that the young Russian on her left had kept his hand in his
pocket all the way, so firm was the belief in his mind that she was a
pickpocket.
Surprise showed through even the suave manner of the young salesman at
Abercrombie & Fitch’s, but Ellen thought that it was brought forth by
the fact that two girls wanted such a surprising number of men’s
shirts.
As twilight came and with it no Ellen and Jane, Aunt Min began to get
worried and called the boys in consultation. They decided to wait
until time to go down for dinner and, if the girls hadn’t come in
then, to notify the authorities so they might organize a search for
them.
Aunt Min stood wringing her hands and moaning: “Such terrible things
could happen to them. Charlie, don’t you remember that awful Chinaman
that killed a girl in New York and put her in a trunk where they
didn’t find her for ages and ages afterwards?”
“Ellen is so little. Oh! why didn’t I go with them?” and Jack cursed
himself roundly for not taking care of the girl with whom he was in
love.
Charlie was seated in a lounging chair taking the whole affair quite
calmly. “Jack, please behave as though you had some sense. Those girls
are about twenty years old, both of them with the average amount of
intelligence, plenty of money in their pockets, and both on the
outside of a good lunch. So they won’t starve to death and, if they
are lost, they can grab a taxi and come to the hotel. I’m willing to
bet on Plain Jane’s ingenuity to get ’em home even if they are both
dead and in some Chinaman’s laundry bag. Probably what really happened
is that they met someone they know and went some place for tea,” and
Charlie went on peacefully eating chocolate creams.
“Oh! it is all very well for you to talk, but just suppose it was
Mabel Wing who was lost and not Ellen. How about it then?” Jack asked.
“Mabel is too big to lose, so that is one thing I don’t have to worry
about,” answered Charlie.
“Anyway, let’s go down in the lobby and wait,” said Aunt Min and led
the way.
Once there they took seats facing the entrance and glued their eyes to
the door. Consequently, when the girls came in flanking a big
policeman, Aunt Min, Jack, and Charlie rose simultaneously and
advanced upon them.
Aunt Min cried: “Thank heavens, Charlie Preston knows law! Jane
Pellew, what have you done now?”
Jack beside himself was squeezing Ellen’s hand and saying: “Ellen, I
am so glad they didn’t take you to jail first. I just know Charlie and
I can fix it up with the cop.”
Charlie looked at them in a ruminating manner and murmured: “Too
happy-looking for anything to be really the matter. Wish they’d come
on and go in to dinner.”
“You are perfectly ridiculous, all of you. Aren’t they, Sergeant
Murphy?” and Jane received an understanding wink from that son of the
Emerald Isle.
“It was this way,” began Ellen and told of how the big policeman had
taken them from shop to shop, and piloted them around all afternoon.
“So when we finished shopping,” broke in Jane, “I suggested that all
of us go to a movie.”
“And a fine picture it was, Mum,” said Sergeant Murphy to Aunt Min,
“with that Fairbanks lad abusting things wide open with every foot of
reel.”
Jane turned to Sergeant Murphy and shaking his hand said: “Ellen and I
want to thank you for your kindness and also for giving us such a
lovely afternoon.”
“’Tis nothin’,” said Sergeant Murphy. “’Twas myself that had all the
fun.”