CHAPTER VII
AN OFFICE SEEKER AND A CLIENT
"Well, little girl, what are you doing here?"
Dorothy had safely reached the big post-office, which seemed to be thebusiest place she had ever entered; busier even than the departmentstores on a "bargain day;" and she had timidly slipped into the quietestcorner she could find, to wait a moment while the crowd thinned. Thenshe would present her note, that asked for father John's letter to begiven her, and which was in his own handwriting, to make sure. But thecrowd did not thin! Besides the swarms and swarms of postmen, wearingjust such gray uniforms as her father's, there were so many men. Allwere hastening to or from the various windows which partitioned a biginner room from this bigger outside one and behind which were other menin uniform--all so busy, busy, busy!
"Why! I didn't dream there could ever be so many letter-carriers! andeach one is so like father, that I'm all mixed up! I know I've got to goto one those windows, to give this letter and get the other one, but howwill I ever get a chance to do it, between all those men?"
Then while Dorothy thus wondered, growing half-frightened, there hadcome that question, put in a familiar tone, and looking up she sawanother gray-uniformed person whom she recognized as her father'sfriend. Once he had been to their house to dinner, and how glad she nowwas for that.
"Oh, Mr. Lathrop! How glad I am to see you! I've got to get a letter andI don't see how I'll ever have the chance. The people don't stop coming,not a minute."
"That's so, little girl--Beg pardon, but I forget your name, though Iknow you belong to John Chester."
"Dorothy it is, Mr. Lathrop. Could you--could you possibly spare time tohelp me?"
"Well, I reckon there's nobody in this office but would spare anyamount of time to help one of John Chester's folks. I was just startingon my rounds--second delivery--heavy mail--but come along with me andI'll fix you out all right."
He turned, shifted his heavy pouch a little, and caught her hand. Thenhe threaded his way through the crowd with what seemed to his smallcompanion a marvelous dexterity. It happened to be the "rush hour" ofbusiness, and at almost any other, Dorothy would not have found anydifficulty in making her own way around, but there was also theconfusion of a first visit. Presently, however, she found herself at theright window to secure the letter she sought, received it, and heard Mr.Lathrop say:
"There. That's all right. I reckon you can find your way out all safe,and I'm in a hurry. Please make my regards to your mother and tell herwe've heard where John is and some of us are going to see him, firstchance we get. Too bad such a thing should happen to him! Don't letanybody snatch that letter from you, and good-bye."
Then Dorothy found herself alone and no longer afraid. She hadaccomplished her mother's errand--now she must attend to a much moreimportant one of her own. She gazed about her with keenest interest,trying to understand the entire postal business, as there representedbefore her, and assuring herself that after all it was extremely simple.
"It's just because it's new. New things always puzzle folks. As soon asI've been once or twice I shan't mind it, no more than any of thesepeople do. I wonder which way I must go? If he's the head man he oughtto have the head room, I should think. Hmm. I'll have to ask,and--and--I sort of hate to. Never mind, Dorothy C.! You're doing it forfather John and mother Martha; and if you plan to be grown-up, in youroutsides, you must be inside, too. Father hates bold little girls. Hesays they're a--a--annemoly, or something. It belongs to girl childrento be afraid of things. He thinks it's nice. Well, I'm all right niceenough inside, this minute, but--I'll do it!"
After these reflections and this sudden resolution Dorothy dartedforward and seized the arm of a negro who was cleaning the floor.
"Please, boy, tell me the way to the head man's place. The realpostmaster of all."
"Hey? I dunno as he's in, yet. He don't come down soon, o' mornin's.What you want to see him for?"
"On business of my own. The way, please," answered Dorothy, bracing herresolution by the fancied air of a grown person.
The negro grinned and resumed his scrubbing, but nodded backward overhis shoulder toward a tall gentleman just entering the building.
"That's him. Now you got your chance, better take it."
There was nothing to inspire fear in the face of this "head man of all,"nor was there anything left in Dorothy's mind but the desire toaccomplish her "business" at once and, of course, successfully. Anotherinstant, and the gentleman crossing the floor felt a detaining touchupon his sleeve and beheld a bonny little face looking earnestly up intohis own. Also, a childish voice was saying:
"I'm John Chester's little girl. May I ask you something?"
"You seem already to be asking me something, but I'm happy to meet you,Miss Chester, and shall be very glad to hear all about your father. Hewas one of the very best men on the force, one of the most intelligent.I can give you five minutes. Come this way, please."
Dorothy flashed him one of her beautiful smiles, and the postmaster, whohappened to love all children, observed that this was a very handsomechild with a pair of wonderful, appealing eyes. Though, of course, hedid not express his admiration in words, Dorothy felt that she hadpleased him and her last hesitation vanished.
As soon as they were seated in a private apartment, she burst into theheart of the matter, saying:
"Please, Mr. Postmaster, will you let me take my father's place?"
"W-wh--at?" asked the gentleman, almost as if he whistled it inastonishment.
Dorothy laughed. "I know I'm pretty small to carry big pouches,'specially the Christmas and Easter ones, but you always have 'extras'then, anyway. I know my father's whole beat. I know it from end toend--all the people's houses, the numbers to them, and lots of the folksthat live around. What I don't know I can read on the envelopes. I'm aquick reader of handwriting, Miss Georgia says."
The postmaster did not interrupt her by a word, but the twinkle in hiseyes grew brighter and brighter and at the end he laughed. Not harshlynor in a manner to hurt her feelings, which he saw were deep andsincere, but because he found this one of the most refreshingexperiences of his rather humdrum position. Here was a visitor, apetitioner, quite different from the numberless illiterate men whobothered him for office. He hated to disappoint her, just yet, so askedwith interest:
"And who is Miss Georgia?"
"She's my teacher. She's the vice principal of our school. She'sdreadful smart."
"Indeed? But what, Miss Chester, put this notion into your head? Bytaking your father's 'place' I conclude that you are applying for hisposition as mail-carrier. Did you ever hear of a little girl postman?"
"No, sir, I didn't, but there has to be a first time, a first one, toeverything, doesn't there? So I could be the first girl postman. And whyI want to is because I think I must support my parents."
The applicant's reply was given with the serious importance due from ayoung lady whom such a fine gentleman called "Miss Chester"; and when heagain desired to know whose idea it was that she should seek a place on"the force," she answered proudly:
"All my own. Nobody's else. Not a single body--not even my motherMartha--ever suspects. I want it to be a surprise, a real, Christmassysurprise. Oh! She's feeling terrible bad about our leaving our home andnot knowing what we'll have to live on. So I thought it all out and thatI'd come right to you and ask, before any other substitute gotappointed.
"Well, maybe the notion came that last day my father carried the mail.His poor legs and feet got so terribly wobbly that he was afraid he'dfall down or something and couldn't finish his delivery. So I walkedalongside of him and ran up the steps and handed in the letters andeverybody was just as nice as nice to us, except old Mrs. Cecil, wholives at Bellevieu. She was mad. She was real mad. She said we werebreaking the law, the two of us. Think of that! My father, John Chester,a law-breaker! Why, he couldn't break a law to save his life. He's toogood."
The postmaster smiled. He had, apparently, forgotten that he was to giveonly
five minutes to this small maid, and he was really charmed by hersimplicity and confidence.
"Was that the day Mr. Chester was taken to the hospital? The boys havetold me about him--some things. How is he doing? Will he be there long?You see, I can ask questions, too!" continued the gentleman, verysocially.
"My mother says there's a chance he may get well. He's to be there onlythis week that ever is. Then he's to be taken into the country, away,away to some mountains in New York State. He's got to live rightoutdoors all the time, and he mustn't worry, not a single worry. Mymother daren't even talk with him about selling, or renting, our house,or the furniture, or--or anything. So she talks to me--some."
"I hope you talk to her--more than 'some'; and I'm wondering if you haddone so before you came to me whether I should ever have had thepleasure of your acquaintance."
Was there a reproof in this? Dorothy's sensitive heart fancied so, yetshe couldn't imagine in what she had done wrong. With a little waning ofhope--the postmaster had been so delightful that she was already sure hewould grant her request--she asked:
"Is it bad? why shouldn't I want to earn the money for my parents? Sameas they have for me and us all. If I had the place, they could go to thecountry, just the same, and the money could be sent to them to live onevery month. Of course, I'd have to not go with them. I reckon Mrs.Bruce, the plumber's wife, would let me live with her, if my folks paidher board for me. Mabel and I could sleep together, and I'd help withthe dishes and work, 'cause if I were a postman I couldn't go to school,of course. I'd have to study nights, same as father has. So, if I didn'tmake much trouble, maybe Mrs. Bruce wouldn't charge much. But, excuseme. My father John says I talk too much, and that when I go to doerrands I should stick to business. He says it doesn't make anydifference to the folks that hire you to work for them whether you'rerich or poor, sick or well. All they want is to have the work done--andno talk about it. I'm sorry I've said so much. I didn't mean to,but----"
"But," repeated the postmaster, suggestively; and Dorothy finished hersentence:
"I haven't talked a single word to anybody else, and it seems so good todo it now. I never had a secret--secrets, for I've got another one yet,that I can't tell--before and I don't like them. I beg your pardon,and--May I have my father's position?" said Dorothy, rising, and seeingby the big clock on the wall that she had long overstayed the timeallotted for this interview.
The gentleman also rose, and laid his hand kindly upon her shoulder, buthis face and voice were grave, as he answered:
"No, my dear, I am sorry to disappoint you, but you ask the impossible.You could not--But there's no use in details of explanation. As yourwise father has taught you, business should be reduced to its simplestterms. I cannot give you the place, but I can, and do, give you the bestof advice--for one of your imaginative nature. Never cherish secrets!Never, even such delightful, surprising ones, as this of yours has been.Especially, never keep anything from your mother. When anything comesinto your mind which you feel you cannot tell _her_ banish the idea atonce and you'll stay on the safe side of things. Good-morning."
Other people were entering the private office and Dorothy was beingcourteously bowed out of it, before she fully realized that she had notobtained her desire, and never would. For a few seconds, her temperflamed, and she reflected, tartly:
"Huh! I should make as good a postman as lots of them do. My father sayssome of them are too ignorant for their places. _I_'m not ignorant. I'mthe best scholar in my class, and my class is the highest one in ourPrimary. I could do it. I could so. But--Well, he was real nice. Heacted just as if he had little girls of his own and knew just how theyfelt. He laughed at me, but he didn't laugh hateful, like Miss Georgiadoes on her 'nervous days' when she mixes me all up in my lessons. Andanyhow, maybe it's just as well. If I'd got to be a letter-girl Icouldn't have gone to the country with father and mother, and I shouldhave about died of lonesomeness without them. Maybe Mrs. Bruce wouldn'thave had me, nor the minister's folks either. Anyway, I've got thatother, more splendid secret, still. I _have_ to have that, because Ihave it already, and so can't help. Miss Georgia would say that therewere two too many 'haves' in that sentence, and the 'two too' soundsfunny, too. Now I must go home. I've got my money-letter all right and,after all, I'm glad mother Martha doesn't know that I wanted father'sbeat, she'd be so much disappointed to know how near we came to stayinghere and couldn't."
With which philosophic acceptance of facts and a cheerful lookingforward to the "next thing," the rejected seeker after public office ranup the hill leading from the post-office and straight against anotheropportunity, as it were.
Just as she had signalled a car, the "gentleman" who had twice calledupon her and who had told her that his name was "John Smith," appearedbeside her on the sidewalk, raised his hat, and with an engaging airexclaimed:
"Why, Miss Chester, how fortunate! I was just on the point of going tosee you. Now, if you will go with me, instead, it will save time andanswer just as well. We don't take this car, but another. My office ison Howard Street, and we'll walk till we meet a Linden Avenue car. Thisway, please. Allow me?"
But Dorothy shrank back from this overly pleasant man. It was with thesame feeling of repulsion that she had experienced on each of theirprevious meetings, and which she had tried to conquer because of thegreat benefit he claimed he had sought her to bestow upon her.
Her next sensation was one of pride, remembering that this was thesecond time that morning for her to be called "Miss Chester." Each timeit had been by a grown-up gentleman and the fact made her feel quitegrown-up and important, also. Besides, this present person was able, hesaid, to more than compensate for any disappointment the postmaster hadinflicted--though, of course, that affair was known only to "the headman of all" and herself. However, she couldn't accept Mr. Smith'sinvitation, for, she explained:
"Thank you, but I can't go with you now. I'm doing an errand for mymother and she'll be expecting me home. She's very busy and needs me tohelp her. Nor do I want to make her worry, for she has all the troublenow she can bear. The first time I can come, if you'll tell me where,I'll try to do so. Are you sure, sure, Mr. Smith, that I am really anheiress and you will help me to get the money that belongs to me?"
"Perfectly sure. A lawyer like me doesn't waste his time on any doubtfulbusiness. I have more cases on hand, this very minute, than I can attendto and ought not to stand idle here one moment. Don't, I beg of you,also stand in your own light, against your real interests and theinterests of those who are dearer to you than yourself. It is verysimple. As soon as you reach the office I'll give you paper and pen andyou can send a message to your mother, explaining that you have beendetained on business but will soon be with her. Ah, yes, the note by allmeans. It quite goes against my nature to cause anybody needlessanxiety. Here's our car. Step in, please."
As she obeyed Dorothy thought that she had never heard anybody talk asfast as the man did. Faster even than she did herself, and with anassured air of authority which could not fail to impress an obedientchild, trained to accept the decisions of her elders without question.She still tightly clutched the envelope containing the preciousten-dollar bill, and had so nervously folded and unfolded it that, bythe time they reached the place on North Howard Street, it was in such astate she was ashamed of it.
"Right up stairs, Miss Chester. Sorry I haven't an elevator to assistyou," remarked the lawyer, curiously regarding her feet in their poorshoes. "However, there are plenty willing to climb three flights ofstairs for the sake of my advice. I've been in business right here inBaltimore longer than I care to remember--it makes me feel so old.Lawyers who have lovely young clients prefer to remain young themselves,you know."
"No, I don't know. I know nothing about lawyers, anyway, and I don'tlike it in here. I was never in such a dark house before. I--I think Iwon't stay. I'll go home and tell my mother everything. That's what theother gentleman advised and I--I _liked him_. Good-bye," said the nowfrightened girl, and turned about on that fli
ght to the third story.
But Mr. Smith was right behind her. She'd have to brush past him todescend the narrow stairway, and he was again chattering away,pretending not to hear her objections, but glibly explaining:
"The reason the house is so dark is because it is so old--one of theoldest in the city, I've been told. Besides, each floor has been turnedinto a flat, or suite of offices, and the tenants keep their doorsclosed. That's why I chose the top story for my own use--it's so muchlighter, and--Here we are!"
Here they were, indeed, but by no stretch of imagination could theapartment be called light. There was a skylight over the top of thestairs, but this was darkened by gray holland shades, and though thereappeared to be three rooms on this floor, the doors of all were closedas the doors on the floors below.
Dorothy was trembling visibly, as her guide opened the door of themiddle room--the "dark one" of the peculiarly constructed cityhouses--and she faced absolute blackness. But her host seemed to knowthe way and to be surprised that nobody was present to receive them.With exclamations of annoyance he hurried to light a single gas jet andthe small flame illumined a dingy, most untidy "office."
Yet still with a grand flourish of manner the lawyer pushed a chairbefore a littered desk, rummaged till he found paper, ink, and pen, andwaved his small client toward it. She was almost in tears, from herfright; yet still bolstered her courage with the thought: "For my fatherand mother!" and resolved to see the business through.
Certainly no such gentlemanly appearing person could intend injury to anunprotected child. Why should she imagine it?
Drawing the paper toward her she began to write and had quickly finishedthe brief note which told her mother as much, and no more than, herinstructor had prescribed. He had kept his eyes rather closely fixedupon the wrinkled envelope she held, and now carelessly remarked:
"You could send that letter home with your note, too, if you wish,though you'll be detained only a little while. I don't see why thatwitness I spoke of hasn't come. I do hate a dilatory client! Will sheneed it, do you think?"
"She might. I will send it, I guess," answered poor Dorothy, and givingthe folded envelope still another twist, enclosed and sealed it in herown note which she handed to her "lawyer."
He took it, hastily, and informed her that he would "just trip downthose troublesome stairs and find a messenger boy, then be back in ajiffy."
As he reckoned time a "jiffy" must have meant several hours; for thewhole day had passed and still he had not returned.