The Motor Maids by Rose, Shamrock and Thistle Part 11

"We must go in a cab," said Billie firmly.

"Do you think two beggar girls could hire a cab?"

"No, this is what you must do," put in Marie-Jeanne, who had gained wisdom by experience and suffering. "One of you can wear this long cape of mine and the other can have mother's. It's exactly like this one. I will lend you what money I have,"-she paused and flushed hotly,-"if you don't mind my calling very soon to get it back, and the capes, too.

Mother always has a spell when we get into these places where we live on almost nothing, but the spells never last long, and she may ask for her cape and the money, too."

"You are the kindest friend in the world, Marie-Jeanne," exclaimed Billie warmly, "and I hope we can do something for you some day to show you how much we appreciate it."

Marie-Jeanne smiled with pleasure.

"I must hurry in now," she said shyly. "Mother, when she wants this medicine and hasn't got it, is nearly wild."

"We will wait for you here, then," said Billie.

Nothing could induce them to enter that awful lodging house again, and the two girls stood s.h.i.+vering in the wet mist while Marie-Jeanne hastened away on her errand. The streets were not empty now.

Occasionally a workman pa.s.sed with a tin pail on his arm; or a tired, battered old creature whom the girls guessed to be a charwoman. n.o.body even glanced at them in their ragged dresses except a little boy with an old face, who called out:

"Beggars is out early this morning."

In five minutes Marie-Jeanne returned with the two capes and the money.

"You got out just in time," she said. "I met Miss Rivers in the hall as I came away. She was going upstairs as fast as she could carry her big body, no doubt to look into your room and see how you stood the loss of your belongings."

"What would she have done to us if she had found us there?" asked Nancy.

"There is no telling. She might have turned you out of the house and denounced you, or she might have been very sweet and sympathizing. But she would have got out of it in some way."

"Marie-Jeanne, I wish we could take you out of all this," cried Billie impetuously. "Must you stay in this dreadful place?"

Marie-Jeanne's eyes filled with tears.

"It isn't only poverty that's keeping us here. There is something else.

I can't tell you,-but you must promise me, if you can stand the loss of your things, not to send the police here. That is the only thing I ask, because if they came,-the police--" she paused and burst into tears.

"Dear Marie-Jeanne, isn't there any thing we can do?" they asked, but not another word would the poor girl say. And presently she drew away from the two girls and hailed a belated hansom. They kissed her good-by, but she still refused to speak, and giving the address of Miss Let.i.tia Lake as glibly as if they had known it all their lives, they jumped into the cab and drove away.

As they turned the corner a sign over a little shop caught their eye. It read:

_Thomas Dinwiddie,_ _Dealer In Cast-Off Clothing._

In three-quarters of an hour the hansom paused in front of a fas.h.i.+onable-looking house in a quiet, respectable street, and in another three minutes Nancy and Billie were laughing and weeping in the arms of their friends, while some one in the next room was telephoning to the police station that the two American girls who had been lost were found at last.

CHAPTER VIII.-WESTMINSTER CHAMBERS.

Oh, the joy that cometh in the morning after a night of weeping!

Billie had always prided herself on her optimism, but that night in Miss Felicia Rivers' lodging house had quenched it for a time. The two girls cried and laughed by turns in telling the story of their sufferings to their friends, who were almost as bedraggled and forlorn as they were themselves. Miss Campbell and her two remaining charges had not touched the bed that terrible night. They had been in active communication with the police department and the American Emba.s.sy since eight o'clock the evening before.

"We can afford to laugh now that all's said and done," exclaimed Nancy; "but if I had been compelled to wear those rags five minutes longer, I am certain I should have jumped off London Bridge."

"Of course you would, you dressy little person," said Billie. "I didn't care for the feel of them myself, and I don't mind how soon I get a bath and a shampoo now I've got rid of them; but it was almost interesting, being disguised as a beggar. If I had had half a chance, I should have held out my hand for pennies, just to see how profitable the begging business is."

"Well, you've given us a dreadful time, my dear," sighed Miss Helen Campbell; "but I've only myself to blame. I am a poor guardian, I am afraid, driving off that way and leaving you two inexperienced children alone."

"No, dearest cousin, it was your cabman's fault. He went too fast for us to follow him."

"I think it was our cabman's fault," said Nancy, "for not listening to the address."

"It was my fault, really, for not getting the address," cried Billie.

But who shall say where the blame lay in an incident so strange and unaccountable? Perhaps it lay on the shoulders of Providence herself who had made Billie and Nancy her unconscious tools in the great game of fate. By that night of loneliness and terror, their destinies had become linked with the destinies of other persons, and without knowing it, they had learned a powerful secret.

"We are minus two cloth skirts, two polo coats, two hats, a watch, two pins and a locket; one coral silk tie and one blue silk tie," announced Nancy, counting off their stolen possessions on her fingers.

"Is Miss Felicia Rivers to be arrested?" demanded Mary Price.

"Likewise Mr. Thomas Dinwiddie, Dealer in Old Clothes?" put in Elinor Butler.

"They should be in jail this minute, the villains!" cried Miss Campbell.

"But," began Nancy, "we promised--"

"We promised?" repeated the others.

"Yes. To Marie-Jeanne. Don't ask what her reasons were, because we don't know. But she made us promise that if she helped us we would not set the police on Miss Felicia Rivers."

"Poor child! Poor young girl!" exclaimed Miss Campbell. "There is surely something back of it all. Her mother is a strange woman, but of course you must keep your word."

Just then the telephone bell rang.

"That's the Police Department now," she continued. "I will answer it myself. h.e.l.lo! Yes! This is Miss Campbell. Yes, they are safe with me now. They went to the wrong lodging house. It was all a mistake. No, a friend met them by chance and saved them. No complaints. Thank you for your courtesy."

And so it happened that Miss Felicia Rivers and her friend, Thomas Dinwiddie, Dealer in Old Clothes, were not visited by justice at that time for their sins past or present.

The abode of Miss Let.i.tia Lake was not called a lodging house at all, but by the much more high-sounding and finer t.i.tle of "Westminster Chambers." It had a perfect right to its name, for it was quite near to Westminster Abbey, whose twin towers might be seen from the windows of the upper chambers. It was a dignified, stately old house, once the home of a gentleman of t.i.tle they were told, and was built of red brick, turned pink with age. A mantle of ivy clung to its walls, the growth of a century, perhaps, and the windows of the Campbell apartment looked out on an old garden already green with the touch of spring. There were three bedrooms of vast size furnished with fine old mahogany and faded hangings of another century, and a charming sitting room with long French windows opening upon little balconies over the street. The furniture in this room was modern; deep wicker chairs with bright chintz cus.h.i.+ons were cl.u.s.tered around a fire of soft coals. Chintz curtains were at the windows and a dark red rug on the floor. The ceilings were very high, and the window recesses so deep that the girls wondered if the house had not been built to withstand shot and sh.e.l.l with those thick, solid walls.

It was in this room that the five kimonoed and slippered travelers a.s.sembled after hot baths of a refres.h.i.+ng and reanimating character.

The daintiest little red-cheeked maid brought in a tray much larger than she was, and deposited it on the center-table. The quaint old Canton china, the linen as white as snow, the fragrance of the most delicious tea ever tasted,-this soothed their senses; while toast, hot-b.u.t.tered, just off the toaster, eggs hiding under a napkin, breakfast bacon, crisp and fragrant, and orange marmalade in a jar with a Scotch plaid pattern,-this was the breakfast which these five ladies, weary to the point of being a little light in the head, now proceeded to make away with to the last crumb.

Then they drew up to the fire and toasted their toes on the bra.s.s fender.

"There is plenty of time. The whole summer is before us," said Miss Campbell sleepily. "We have weeks and weeks in which to see Westminster Abbey and London Tower and Windsor Palace and all the other sights. We shall take a good long rest to-day. I still feel myself rolling and pitching on that horrid old s.h.i.+p. After you have had your sleep and feel quite rested and strong again, you may put on your best evening dresses and--"