THE FIRST CLUE
Nan and her chum were wildly excited. During their brief stay at
Tillbury over Christmas they had been so busy, at home and abroad, that
they had not thought much about Sallie Morton and Celia Snubbins, the
two runaways.
In Nan's case, not having seen her mother for ten months, she did not--at
the last moment--even desire to come away from her and visit her school
friends in Chicago.
There really was so much to say, so much to learn about Scotland and the
beautiful old Emberon Castle and the village about it, and about the
queer people Mrs. Sherwood had met, too! Oh! Nan hoped that she would
see the place in time--the "Cradle of the Blake Clan," as Mr. Sherwood
called it.
There had been presents, of course, and in the giving and accepting of
these Nan had found much pleasure and excitement--especially when she
found a box of beautiful new clothes for her big doll, all made in
Scotland by "Momsey," who knew just how precious Beautiful Beulah was in
her daughter's eyes.
With all her work and play at Lakeview Hall, Nan Sherwood had not
forgotten Beulah. The other girls of her age and in her grade were
inclined to laugh at Nan for playing dolls; but at the last of the term
Beautiful Beulah had held the post of honor in Room Seven, Corridor Four.
Nan's love for dolls foreshadowed her love for babies. She never could
pass a baby by without trying to make friends with it. The little girls
at Lakeview Hall found a staunch friend and champion in Nan Sherwood. It
was a great grief to Mrs. Sherwood and Nan that there were no babies in
the "little dwelling in amity." Nan could barely remember the brother
that had come to stay with them such a little while, and then had gone
away forever.
Nan's heart was touched by the apparent needs of this street girl who had
come to the rescue of Bess and herself when they arrived in Chicago. All
the time she and her chum were trying to learn something about the two
girls who had come to the great city to be moving picture actresses, and
listening to what the flower-seller had to say about them, Nan was
thinking, too, of their unfortunate little informant.
"Is that restaurant where you took those girls to eat near here?" she
suddenly asked.
"Aw, say! 'tain't no rest'rant," said the child. "It's just Mother
Beasley's hash-house."
"Goodness!" gasped Bess. "Is it a _nice_ place?"
The girl grinned. "'Cordin' ter what you thinks is nice. I 'spect _you'd_
like the Auditorium Annex better. But Mother Beasley's is pretty good
when you ain't got much to spend."
Bess looked at Nan curiously. The latter was eager to improve this
acquaintanceship so strangely begun, and for more than one reason.
"Could you show us to Mother Beasley's--if it isn't very far away?"
Nan asked.
"Aw, say! What d'ye think? I ain't nawthan' ter do but beau greenies
around this burg? A swell chaunc't I'd have to git any eats meself. I
gotter sell these posies, I have."
"But you can eat with us!" Nan suggested.
"Oh, Nan!" Bess whispered. "Do you s'pose we can find any clue to those
girls there?"
"I hope so," returned Nan, in the same low voice.
"Goodness! I'm just as excited as I can be," her chum went on to say.
"We'll be regular detectives. _This_ beats being a movie actress,
right now."
Nan smiled, but in a moment was grave again. "I'd do a great deal for
that lovely Mrs. Morton," she said. "And even funny old Si Snubbins had
tears in his eyes at the last when he begged us to find his Celia."
"I know it," Bess agreed sympathetically. "But I can't help being excited
just the same. If we should find them at this Mother Beasley's--"
"I don't expect that; but we may hear of them there," said Nan. "Here's
our new chum."
The flower-girl had darted away to sell one of her little bouquets. Now
she came back and took up the discussion where she had dropped it.
"Now about those eats," she said. "I ain't in the habit of eating at all
hours; it don't agree wid my constitootin, me doctor tells me. Fact is,
sometimes I don't eat much, if _any_."
"Oh!" gasped Bess.
"That's when I don't sell out. An' I got five posies left. I b'lieve I'd
better take ye up on this offer. Youse pay for me feed for the pleasure
of me comp'ny; hey?"
"That's the answer," said Nan, spiritedly. "We're going to be good
friends, I can see."
"We are if youse is goin' to pay for me eats," agreed the girl.
"What is your name?" asked Nan, as their young pilot guided the
chums across to the opening of a side-street. "Mine is Nan, and my
friend's is Bess."
"Well, they calls me some mighty mean names sometimes; but my real,
honest-to-goodness name is Inez. Me mudder was a Gypsy Queen and me
fadder was boss of a section gang on de railroad somewhere. He went off
and me mudder died, and I been livin' with me aunt. She's good enough
when she ain't got a bottle by her, and me and her kids have good times.
But I gotter rustle for me own grub. We all haster."
Nan and Bess listened to this, and watched the independent little thing
in much amazement. Such a creature neither of the chums from Tillbury had
ever before heard of or imagined.
"Do you suppose she is telling the truth?" whispered Bess to Nan.
"I don't see why she should tell a wrong story gratuitously," Nan
returned.
"Come on, girls," said Inez, turning into another street--narrower
and more shabby than the first. "Lift your feet! I ain't got no time
to waste."
Nan laughed and hastened her steps; but Bess looked doubtful.
"Hi!" exclaimed the street girl, "are you sure you two ain't wantin' to
break into the movies, too?"
"Not yet," proclaimed Nan. "But we would like to find a couple of girls
who, I think, came to Chicago for that purpose."
"Hi! them two I was tellin' you about?"
"Perhaps."
"Their folks want 'em back?" asked the street child, abruptly.
"I should say they did!" cried Bess.
"Ain't they the sillies!" exclaimed Inez. "Catch me leavin' a place where
they didn't beat me too much and where the eats came reg'lar."
"Oh!" again ejaculated Bess.
Just then a little boy, more ragged even than their guide, approached. At
once Inez proceeded to shove him off the sidewalk, and when he objected,
she slapped him soundly.
"Why, goodness me, child!" cried the astonished Nan, "what did you do
that for? Did he do anything to you?"
"Nope. Never seen him before," admitted Inez. "But I pitch into all the
boys I see that I'm sure I can whip. Then they let me alone. They think
I'm tough. These boys wouldn't let a girl sell a flower, nor a newspaper,
nor nothin', if they could help it. We girls got ter fight 'em."
"The beginning of suffragism," groaned Nan.
"I never heard of such a thing!" Bess cried. "Fighting the boys--how
disgraceful!"
Inez stared at her. "Hi!" she finally exclaimed, "you wouldn't make much
if you didn't fight, I can tell ye. When I see a boy with a basket of
posies, I pull it away from him and tear 'em up. Boys ain't got no
business selling posies around here. That's a girl's job, and I'm goin'
to show 'em, I am!"
Nan and Bess listened to this with mingled emotions. It was laughable,
yet pitiful. Little boys and girls fighting like savages for a bare
existence. The chums were silent the rest of the way to the old brick
house--just a "slice" out of a three-story-and-basement row of such
houses, which Inez announced to be "Mother Beasley's."
"Sometimes she's got her beds all full and you hafter wait for lodgin's.
Mebbe she'll let you camp in her room, or in one of the halls up-stairs."
"Oh, but, my dear, we don't wish to stay!" Nan said. "Only to eat here
and inquire about those other girls."
"Where' ye goin' to stop?" asked Inez, curiously.
"We have friends out by Washington Park," Bess said. "They'd have met us,
only there was some mistake in the arrival of our train."
"Hi! Washington Park?" exclaimed the flower-seller. "Say, you must be
big-bugs."
Nan laughed. "I guess _they_ are," she said.
"Youse won't be suited with Mother Beasley's grub," said the girl,
hesitating at the basement steps.
"I believe she's right," Bess said faintly, as the odor of cooking
suddenly burst forth with the opening of the door under the long flight
leading to the front door of the house.
"I've eaten in a lumber camp," said Nan, stoutly. "I'm sure this can't
be as hard."