A New Sensation. Albert Ross
with celerity, and my time was growing short. I visited half a dozen shops before I could get fitted with shoes of the right weight, for instance. There were long hunts for underflannels and hose. The tailors offered me anything but thin weights, until I persisted and would not be put off, and then I had to select the goods by sample. With some extra light pajamas, a gauzy bathrobe, a lot of new collars and cuffs, and an extra dozen of colored bosom shirts, I thought myself at last nearly ready. I urged upon each dealer the necessity of sending his articles at the earliest possible moment, thinking it wisest to deceive him a little about the day I was to sail. The event proved this the only way I succeeded in getting them all delivered in season.
It was with more excitement than was good for me that I took a hansom on Tuesday morning, at an early hour, and drove to the up-town office of the Herald. I expected a number of answers to my advertisement and wanted to take them home as expeditiously as possible. Nor was I disappointed. The clerk handed me out not less than a hundred and fifty envelopes, when I presented the card that had been given me, and he was kind enough to tie them in bundles at my request. Twenty minutes later I was in my sitting room, the door locked for fear of intrusion, and tearing open one after another with the hunger of curiosity.
The first five or six were not at all satisfactory. They contained little beside requests for "further particulars," and had a business-like air that did not suit my mood. Then came one that was interesting enough to be put in the reserve pile from which the final decision was to be made. Perhaps I may as well give it now in its entirety:
Dear Mr. 107—[that was the number the Herald had assigned me]—Although your announcement does not state your sex, I feel justified in assuming that you are a Man. "Lady" Typewriter! Well, as far as I know I answer that description, and now for the situation. "To travel in the Tropics?" I certainly have no objection to doing that, provided—! You say the "duties are light." Certainly that sounds encouraging. What do they consist of—actual typewriting or keeping dull care from drawing wrinkles on your manly brow? Typewriters are called upon to do such strange things in these days. The individual whose bread I now earn seems to consider that he has a right (in consideration of twelve dollars per week) to kiss me whenever he takes a fancy, which is the reason why I am seeking another employer, who, if he has the same tastes, may have a more attractive mouth for the purpose. How long is your journey to last and what pay do you intend to offer?
I am twenty-six years of age, not specially ill looking, and have a good temper unless angered. I won't say much about my ability on the machine, for I presume that is a secondary consideration. Send your reply—if you think me worth it—to No. — East Sixteenth Street, but don't call in person unless you wish to have an interview with a gouty uncle or a frightfully jealous cousin.
Ever Yours,
ALICE BRAZIER.
N.B. If you take me off with you, I shall let neither of them know where I have gone.
This was bright and breezy, at least. The next one that I laid aside was as follows:
Dear Sir:—I am a Southern girl, if one who has reached the age of 22 may so call herself. I have a good education and am refined in manner. I have no doubt I can fill all the requirements of the position you offer, and would be pleased to have you call, Wednesday afternoon, between two and four, at my lodgings, or on any other afternoon you may name. Please grant me at least an interview.
Very Truly,
MARJORIE MAY.
No. — W. 45th Street.
I read all the others, to the last one; but these two had attracted my attention so thoroughly that the rest palled on my taste. Some were too plainly sent by the ordinary class of immoral women, who had taken this manner of making an acquaintance. One stated that she had the finest form in New York, which she would be happy to exhibit for my approval, in all its chaste splendor. Another had "lost her job" in a big department store, and would "appreciate the true friendship of a man who could spare $6 or $8 a week." Another frankly owned herself to be a "grass widow," who on the whole preferred one "friend" to twenty and offered me the first chance to fill that permanent position. Three or four were apparently school-girls who were tired of the wholesome restraints of home and wanted to run away with any man who would pay their bills.
One declared herself to be 42 years of age, an expert typewriter, and warned me against taking a "giddy young thing" on my journey when one of her assured character could be obtained. She added that her reason for desiring a change was that her employer was a scandalous person, whose goings-on with a younger typewriter with whom she had to associate were "awful." And she enclosed as a clincher an autograph letter from her pastor, recommending her to "any Christian gentleman" needing a reliable assistant.
Several were either married to men whose whereabouts were at present unknown or had been divorced. One admitted in a burst of frankness that she had "trusted a professed friend too far" and did not care what became of herself.
All of which was rather amusing in its way, but brought me no nearer to the goal of my desire—a bright, cheerful companion for the voyage I was about to undertake.
I examined the entire lot before I recollected the agreement I had made with Harvey Hume. Then I gathered up all the letters (except my two favorites)—for I did not mean to show these to any one—and started for his office in the middle of the afternoon. Harvey was in, of course; not that he had any clients or expected any, but because those were his office hours and he had nowhere else to go in particular. He was evidently glad to see me, especially when he espied my package, for he scented something to dispel his ennui.
We withdrew into his private office and he closed the door.
"Any prizes?" he asked, jocosely.
"You can decide for yourself," I answered. "They are entirely at your disposal."
"Humph!" he grunted, as he laid down the first one. "I wouldn't pay that girl's fare to Coney Island, judging by her capacity as a letter writer." Then he struck the communication from the forty-two-years-old damsel and gravely proceeded to show why she was the one I had best select. After awhile he asked leave to retain two or three, that he thought might be of use to him, and that I quite agreed were of none whatever to me. When he had read over about half of the entire number, he pushed the rest aside.
"Rot and rubbish!" he exclaimed.
"That's what I call them," I answered.
"You've given up your plan?" he said, inquiringly.
"By no means. But there's nothing very appetizing in that trash."
"How will you find anything better?"
"Oh, I've a scheme. When it develops I may let you in, but not just at this stage." I wanted to tantalize him a bit. "You asked to see this stuff and I've obliged you."
Just at this moment Tom Barton came in, and Harvey threw a newspaper over the heap of letters, lest it should attract his attention and arouse his suspicions. It was quite needless, for Tom never suspected anything in his life. We talked over a few trifles for fifteen minutes and then, as Tom said he must be going, I walked out into the hall with him.
"I'm going home early," he remarked. "Statia hasn't felt very well for the past day or two, and I am a little worried about her."
I was sincerely sorry to hear it. My chagrin over the things she said to me had modified a good deal and I entertained at that moment only the kindest feelings toward her.
"I wish you would come up to dinner to-night," said Tom, wistfully. "I think that would brighten her up if anything can. She's not ill, but merely out of sorts. Come, that's a good fellow."
I had as lief go there as anywhere and I consented without more demur. There was something in the dog-like attachment of Tom for me that was touching, and in a few days more I would be gone from him for months. As for his sister, I was sure she couldn't bother me more than I could her. I had the two letters in my pocket. If she tried any of her games, I would read them to her.
Statia was unquestionably pale that evening when, after some