young man. There was not a sign about her from the tip of her coral and fur toque to the tip of her suede-shod feet that she was going out to seek her fortune, else I'm sure from his eyes he might have followed her. Coolly she turned up the avenue when she reached the door, and made her way as if she had had it all planned out beforehand, and walked on up among the gay shoppers.
The way seemed interesting and beautiful, and she was not unduly impressed by her situation, now that she was out in the sunshine again with the clear, bright autumn air tingling her cheeks. There would be a way, and this was an adventure. Since home was not what she had hoped and she needs must have come away alone, why not make a game of it? There would be a way out somehow. There always had been, although, truth to tell there had never been anything really terrible to face before. Somehow that very fact made it hard to believe that this was a truly serious occasion. She felt as though perhaps it might be just a long dream after all and she might wake up soon and find Evelyn calling her to get ready for that house party. Things were queer anyway. Here she was away off here, and but for her own act of going away – but for her having come downstairs at that very minute when Evelyn thought she was gone and began to speak – she would have been at that house party at this very minute, smiling and talking and having a good time with a lot of nice people and never thinking of such a thing as that some people in the world had to earn their living. It was queer, too, that she had to be bothered just now with finding some work to do when she needed all her time and faculties to think about what had happened to her. Queer that she couldn't have time to feel bad when a terrible thing had happened just because she had to find things to put in her mouth, and a place to sleep nights. The whole world was a queer place. It had often struck her so before, at odd times, when things hadn't gone just right and when that ache for home had come in and spoiled things; but now it seemed that everything was queer, and hard, and always had been.
On up the avenue the shops grew less fascinating, and churches lifted frequent spires with fretwork of marble, and gothic arch. And now great piles of marble, ornate and stately, cluttered up a whole block here and there, intruding on the busy life, like selfish canines who have squatted in the way of traffic, and are too indifferent to care that they are impeding progress. Indifferently she recognized that these were mansions where her kind condescended to spend a few days or weeks now and then when business or pleasure caused them to alight briefly from their flitting pursuit of pleasure. What if she should walk up to one of them and demand employment? Well, why not? The next one she came to perhaps – but the next one was still with closed shutters and an air of not having waked up for winter yet, and her feet strayed farther. Another stone mansion loomed ahead, with carved gateways in a high and ornate stone fencing about a velvet patch of grass and flaunting autumn flowers. The big plate-glass doors in their heavy iron grills had just been closed with that subdued thud of perfect mechanism, and a luxurious electric car was rolling out the gateway as Patty came to its crossing. She glanced up and saw a lady sitting within, rich furs about her shoulders, and a painted haggard look upon her face that reminded her of her mother; the look of a woman who was frantically trying to have a good time and being bored to death by it. Patty knew it well and it did not interest her. She would not have looked again, and would have passed on, but just then the glass doors shivered themselves open with a little gasp of haste and a liveried person hurried out and made some sign that attracted the attention of the chauffeur, who stopped the car on the sidewalk directly before her, so that she had to pause and wait until it was out of the way.
The liveried person came breathlessly to the car and spoke to the lady who looked annoyed:
“Mrs. Horliss-Cole, Miss Marjorie says some one has just telephoned from a hospital that Miss Morris has met with an accident on the way here, and has broken her leg. She says you’ll have to get someone else to take her place.”
The lady in the limousine rumpled her thin forehead peevishly and uttered an exclamation of dismay:
“How tiresome! Well, Rogers, why didn’t you tell Banely to telephone and arrange for someone else?”
“Beg pardon, ma’am, but Banely went out for the afternoon an hour ago. She said you told her you would not need her.”
“Oh, yes, of course! Well, I suppose I must come back and phone, Miss Sylvia is so particular——! Well, Parke, you'll have to back in again. Rogers, you might call up the agency on the library phone. I'll come right in."
The car rolled noiselessly hack again to the great doors and the lady got out and went into the house. Patty walked on, but her mind was full of what she had just heard. Suddenly she stopped short in the way, almost upsetting a little man who was racing breathlessly down town and hadn't counted on her being there when he got there.
Patty's cheeks were rosy with embarrassment, and she felt as if he could see the guilty thought that had stopped her written all over her face as he lifted his hat with a hasty apology and hurried on. She made a beeline for the tall granite fence that separated a strip of velvet green in front of another stately mansion from the sidewalk, and leaning against it tried to steady herself. Should she do it? Ought she? Why not? Perhaps it was the very opportunity for which she was looking! It seemed that way. Was there a chance in the world she would get it, she a stranger without recommendations? And what should she call herself? It would not do to use the family name, both for the sake of her father and also because it might lead to her family finding out where she was. Assumed names were not nice things, however, and it troubled her to even entertain the thought of one. But she turned swiftly now that the impulse had become a resolve, and walked back the block and a half she had come since passing the lady. The last half block she almost ran, for the terrible thought came to her that perhaps the lady was already through with her ’phoning and she might miss the only opportunity New York had for her.
But a glance through the handsome iron grill work showed the car still standing under the ample porte cochere, and she turned in with a wildly beating heart and cheeks that resembled lovely roses. She was so afraid that her courage would fail her now before she got in, and she must see that woman and try to get the position. Oh, she hoped it was something she could do! Yet how did she know it was a position? Perhaps it was a dressmaker, or an entertainer, or even a dinner guest. Well, what of it? She had heard of hired dinner guests. At least it could do no harm to try. And the lady had mentioned an agency. Perhaps it was a cook she wanted. No! Nobody would call their cook “Miss Morris.” Nor even a waitress! And how wonderful that she should have overheard the woman's name! It was so much easier to ask for a person at the door by her name. Without it she would probably have been unable to gain audience.
With hasty feet she mounted the broad stone steps and stood within the shadow of the arching pillars with her hand on the bell. She could catch the reflection of the bright coral knot of velvet in her hat and suddenly she felt so strange and queer and out of place, she who had been accustomed to enter such homes as an honored guest; begging entrance to ask for a chance to earn her living! Almost it seemed as if she must go back in a panic to the street and be lost in the throng again. Only – what should she do to-night if she failed to get anything anywhere? Panic stayed her feet while panic also drove her away, and between the two emotions she wavered, setting her firm little lips and trying to keep from trembling as she saw the liveried person coming down some inner white marble steps with stately tread. Oh, crazy, crazy thought! Why had she followed it? What excuse could she find now to get gracefully away, she the daughter of an honored family, sneaking her way into the front door of a Fifth Avenue mansion to get a job to earn her living! Appalling thought! And she had actually planned it and come back to carry it off! How could she possibly face this grave-faced servant?
Then the plate-glass door opened with a stately sweep and the cold-eyed servant stood surveying her critically from the knot of coral on her hat to the tip of her gray suede boot. He evidently recognized that her attire was altogether correct, and with a second glance at her exquisitely fitting suede gloves, he opened the door an inch further and looked at her enquiringly. Then she opened her cold little lips and heard her own voice from very far away, saying over the
