A STATEMENT OF FACT
Dud Stone had that very day seen the fixtures put into the little
millinery store downtown, and it was ready for Sadie Goronsky to take
charge; there being a fund of two hundred dollars to Sadie's credit at a
nearby bank, with which she could buy stock and pay her running expenses
for the first few weeks.
Yet Sadie didn't know a thing about it.
This last was the reason Helen went downtown early in the morning
following the little dinner party at the Stones'. At that party Helen had
met the uncle, aunt, and cousins of Dud and Jess Stone, with whom the
orphaned brother and sister lived, and she had found them a most charming
family.
Jess had invited Helen to bring her trunk and remain with her as long as
she contemplated staying in New York, and this Helen was determined to do.
Even if the Starkweathers would not let the expressman have her trunk, she
was prepared to blossom out now in a butterfly outfit, and take the place
in society that was rightfully hers.
But Helen hadn't time to go shopping as yet. She was too eager to tell
Sadie of her good fortune. Sadie was to be found--cold as the day
was--pacing the walk before Finkelstein's shop, on the sharp lookout for a
customer. But there were a few flakes of snow in the air, the wind from
the river was very raw, and it did seem to Helen as though the Russian
girl was endangering her health.
"But what can poor folks do?" demanded Sadie, hoarsely, for she already
had a heavy cold. "There is nothing for me to do inside the store. If I
catch a customer I make somet'ings yet. Well, we must all work!"
"Some other kind of work would be easier," suggested Helen.
"But not so much money, maybe."
"If you only had your millinery store."
"Don't make me laugh! Me lip's cracked," grumbled Sadie. "Have a heart,
Helen! I ain't never goin' to git a store like I showed you."
Sadie was evidently short of hope on this cold day. Helen seized her arm.
"Let's go up and look at that store again," she urged.
"Have a heart, I tell ye!" exclaimed Sadie Goronsky. "Whaddeyer wanter rub
it in for?"
"Anyway, if we run it will help warm you."
"All ri'. Come on," said Sadie, with deep disgust, but she started on a
heavy trot towards the block on which her heart had been set. And when
they rounded the corner and came before the little shop window, Sadie
stopped with a gasp of amazement.
Freshly varnished cases, and counter, and drawers, and all were in the
store just as she had dreamed of them. There were mirrors, too, and in the
window little forms on which to set up the trimmed hats and one big,
pink-cheeked, dolly-looking wax bust, with a great mass of tow-colored
hair piled high in the very latest mode, on which was to be set the very
finest hat to be evolved in that particular East Side shop.
"Wha--wha--what----"
"Let's go in and look at it," said Helen, eagerly, seizing her friend's
arm again.
"No, no, no!" gasped Sadie. "We can't. It ain't open. Oh, oh, oh!
Somebody's got _my_ shop!"
Helen produced the key and opened the door. She fairly pushed the amazed
Russian girl inside, and then closed the door. It was nice and warm. There
were chairs. There was a half-length partition at the rear to separate the
workroom from the showroom. And behind that partition were low sewing
chairs to work in, and a long work-table.
Helen led the dazed Sadie into this rear room and sat her down in one of
the chairs. Then she took one facing her and said:
"Now, you sit right there and make up in your mind the very prettiest hat
for _me_ that you can possibly invent. The first hat you trim in this
store must be for me."
"Helen! Helen!" cried Sadie, almost wildly. "You're crazy yet--or is it
me? I don't know what you mean----"
"Yes, you do, dear," replied Helen, putting her arms about the other
girl's neck. "You were kind to me when I was lost in this city. You were
kind to me just for nothing--when I appeared poor and forlorn and--and a
greenie! Now, I am sorry that it seemed best for me to let your mistake
stand. I did not tell my uncle and cousins either, that I was not as poor
and helpless as I appeared."
"And you're rich?" shrieked Sadie. "You're doing this yourself? This is
_your_ store?"
"No, it is _your_ store," returned Helen, firmly. "Of course, by and by,
when you are established and are making lots of money, if you can ever
afford to pay me back, you may do so. The money is yours without interest
until that time."
"I got to cry, Helen! I got to cry!" sobbed Sadie Goronsky. "If an angel
right down out of heaven had done it like you done it, I'd worship him on
my knees. And you're a rich girl--not a poor one?"
Helen then told her all about herself, and all about her adventures since
coming alone to New York. But after that Sadie wanted to keep telling her
how thankful she was for the store, and that Helen must come home and see
mommer, and that mommer must be brought to see the shop, too. So Helen ran
away. She could not bear any more gratitude from Sadie. Her heart was too
full.
She went over to poor Lurcher's lodgings and climbed the dark stairs to
his rooms. She had something to tell him, as well.
The purblind old man knew her step, although she had been there but a few
times.
"Come in, Miss. Yours are angel's visits, although they are more frequent
than angel's visits are supposed to be," he cried.
"I do hope you are keeping off the street this weather, Mr. Lurcher," she
said. "If you can mend shoes I have heard of a place where they will send
work to you, and call for it, and you can afford to have a warmer and
lighter room than this one."
"Ah, my dear Miss! that is good of you--that is good of you," mumbled the
old man. "And why you should take such an interest in _me_----?"
"I feel sure that you would be interested in me, if I were poor and
unhappy and you were rich and able to get about. Isn't that so?" she said,
laughing.
"Aye. Truly. And you _are_ rich, my dear Miss?"
"Very rich, indeed. Father was one of the big cattle kings of Montana, and
Prince Morrell's Sunset Ranch, they tell me, is one of the _great_
properties of the West."
The old man turned to look at her with some eagerness. "That name?" he
whispered. "_Who_ did you say?"
"Why--my father, Prince Morrell."
"Your father? Prince Morrell your father?" gasped the old man, and sat
down suddenly, shaking in every limb.
The girl instantly became excited, too. She stepped quickly to him and
laid her hand upon his shoulder.
"Did you ever know my father?" she asked him.
"I--I once knew a Mr. Prince Morrell."
"Was it here in New York you knew him?"
"Yes. It was years ago. He--he was a good man. I--I had not heard of him
for years. I was away from the city myself for ten years--in New Orleans.
I went there suddenly to take the position of head bookkeeper in a
shipping firm. Then the firm failed, my health was broken by the climate,
and I returned here."
Helen was staring at him in wonder and almost in alarm. She backed away
from him a bit toward the door.
"Tell me your real name!" she cried. "It's not Lurcher. Nor is it Jones.
No! don't tell me. I know--I know! You are Allen Chesterton, who was once
bookkeeper for the firm of Grimes & Morrell!"