The Prince and Betty

  CHAPTER XX

  BETTY AT LARGE

  It was not till Betty found herself many blocks distant from the officeof _Peaceful Moments_ that she checked her headlong flight. Shehad run down the stairs and out into the street blindly, filled onlywith that passion for escape which had swept her away from Mervo. Nottill she had dived into the human river of Broadway and reached TimesSquare did she feel secure. Then, with less haste, she walked on to thepark, and sat down on a bench, to think.

  Inevitably she had placed her own construction on John's suddenappearance in New York and at the spot where only one person in any wayconnected with Mervo knew her to be. She did not know that Smith and hewere friends, and did not, therefore, suspect that the former and notherself might be the object of his visit. Nor had any word reached herof what had happened at Mervo after her departure. She had taken it forgranted that things had continued as she had left them; and the onlypossible explanation to her of John's presence in New York was that,acting under orders from Mr. Scobell, he had come to try and bring herback.

  She shuddered as she conjured up the scene that must have taken placeif Pugsy had not mentioned his name and she had gone on into the innerroom. In itself the thought that, after what she had said that morningon the island, after she had forced on him, stripping it of theuttermost rag of disguise, the realization of how his position appearedto her, he should have come, under orders, to bring her back, waswell-nigh unendurable. But to have met him, to have seen the man sheloved plunging still deeper into shame, would have been pain beyondbearing. Better a thousand times than that this panic flight into theiron wilderness of New York.

  It was cool and soothing in the park. The roar of the city was hushed.It was pleasant to sit there and watch the squirrels playing on thegreen slopes or scampering up into the branches through which one couldsee the gleam of water. Her thoughts became less chaotic. The peace ofthe summer afternoon stole upon her.

  It did not take her long to make up her mind that the door of_Peaceful Moments_ was closed to her. John, not finding her, mightgo away, but he would return. Reluctantly, she abandoned the paper. Herheart was heavy when she had formed the decision. She had been as happyat _Peaceful Moments_ as it was possible for her to be now. Shewould miss Smith and the leisurely work and the feeling of being one ofa team, working in a good cause. And that, brought Broster Street backto her mind, and she thought of the children. No, she could not abandonthem. She had started the tenement articles, and she would go on withthem. But she must do it without ever venturing into the dangerousneighborhood of the office.

  A squirrel ran up and sat begging for a nut. Betty searched in thegrass in the hope of finding one, but came upon nothing but shells. Thesquirrel bounded away, with a disdainful flick of the tail.

  Betty laughed.

  "You think of nothing but food. You ought to be ashamed to be sogreedy."

  And then it came to her suddenly that it was no trifle, this sameproblem of food.

  The warm, green park seemed to grow chill and gray. Once again she mustdeal with life's material side.

  Her case was at the same time better and worse than it had been on thatother occasion when she had faced the future in the French train;better, because then New York had been to her something vague andterrifying, while now it was her city; worse, because she could nolonger seek help from Mrs. Oakley.

  That Mrs. Oakley had given John the information which had enabled himto discover her hiding-place, Betty felt certain. By what otherpossible means could he have found it? Why Mrs. Oakley, whom she hadconsidered an ally, should have done so, she did not know. Sheattributed it to a change of mind, a reconsideration of the case whenuninfluenced by sentiment. And yet it seemed strange. Perhaps John hadgone to her and the sight of him had won the old lady over to his side.It might be so. At any rate, it meant that the cottage on StatenIsland, like the office of _Peaceful Moments_, was closed to her.She must look elsewhere for help, or trust entirely to herself.

  She sat on, thinking, with grave, troubled eyes, while the shadowslengthened and the birds rustled sleepily in the branches overhead.

  * * * * *

  Among the good qualities, none too numerous, of Mr. Bat Jarvis, ofGroome Street in the Bowery, early rising was not included. It was hishabit to retire to rest at an advanced hour, and to balance accounts bylying abed on the following morning. This idiosyncrasy of his was wellknown in the neighborhood and respected, and it was generally bold tobe both bad taste and unsafe to visit Bat's shop until near thefashionable hour for luncheon, when the great one, shirt-sleeved andsmoking a short pipe, would appear in the doorway, looking out upon theworld and giving it to understand that he was now open to be approachedby deserving acquaintances.

  When, therefore, at ten o'clock in the morning his slumbers were cutshort by a sharp rapping at the front door, his first impression wasthat he had been dreaming. When, after a brief interval, the noise wasresumed, he rose in his might and, knuckling the sleep from his eyes,went down, tight-lipped, to interview this person.

  He had got as far as a preliminary "Say!" when speech was wiped fromhis lips as with a sponge, and he stood gaping and ashamed, for themurderer of sleep and untimely knocker on front doors was Betty.

  Mr. Jarvis had not forgotten Betty. His meeting with her at the officeof _Peaceful Moments_ had marked an epoch in his life. Neverbefore had anyone quite like her crossed his path, and at that momentromance had come to him. His was essentially a respectful admiration.He was content--indeed, he preferred to worship from afar. Of his owninitiative he would never have met her again. In her presence, withthose gray eyes of hers looking at him, tremors ran down his spine, andhis conscience, usually a battered and downtrodden wreck, becamefiercely aggressive. She filled him with novel emotions, and whetherthese were pleasant or painful was more than he could say. He had notthe gift of analysis where his feelings were concerned. To himself heput it, broadly, that she made him feel like a nickel with a hole init. But that was not entirely satisfactory. There were other andpleasanter emotions mixed in with this humility. The thought of hermade him feel, for instance, vaguely chivalrous. He wanted to do riskyand useful things for her. Thus, if any fresh guy should endeavor toget gay with her, it would, he felt, be a privilege to fix that sameguy. If she should be in bad, he would be more than ready to get busyon her behalf.

  But he had never expected to meet her again, certainly not on his owndoorstep at ten in the morning. To Bat ten in the morning was includedwith the small hours.

  Betty smiled at him, a little anxiously. She had no suspicion that sheplayed star to Mr. Jarvis' moth in the latter's life, and, as she eyedhim, standing there on the doorstep, her excuse for coming to him beganto seem terribly flimsy. Not being aware that he was in reality a toughBayard, keenly desirous of obeying her lightest word, she had stakedher all on the chance of his remembering the cat episode and beinggrateful on account of it; and in the cold light of the morning thisidea, born in the watches of the night, when things tend to lose theirproportion, struck her as less happy than she had fancied. Suppose hehad forgotten all about it! Suppose he should be violent! For a momenther heart sank. He certainly was not a pleasing and encouraging sight,as he stood there blinking at her. No man looks his best immediately onrising from bed, and Bat, even at his best, was not a hero of romance.His forelock drooped dankly over his brow; there was stubble on hischin; his eyes were red, like a dog's. He did not look like the FairyPrince who was to save her in her trouble.

  "I--I hope you remember me, Mr. Jarvis," she faltered. "Your cat. I--"

  He nodded speechlessly. Hideous things happened to his face. He wasreally trying to smile pleasantly, but it seemed a scowl to Betty, andher voice died away.

  Mr. Jarvis spoke.

  "Ma'am--sure!--step 'nside."

  Betty followed him into the shop. There were birds in cages on thewalls, and, patroling the floor, a great company of cats, each with itsleather collar. One rubbed itself against
Betty's skirt. She picked itup, and began to stroke it. And, looking over its head at Mr. Jarvis,she was aware that he was beaming sheepishly.

  His eyes darted away the instant they met hers, but Betty had seenenough to show her that she had mistaken nervousness for truculence.Immediately, she was at her ease, and womanlike, had begun to controlthe situation. She made conversation pleasantly, praising the cats,admiring the birds, touching lightly on the general subject of domesticpets, until her woman's sixth sense told her that her host's panic hadpassed, and that she might now proceed to discuss business.

  "I hope you don't mind my coming to you, Mr. Jarvis," she said. "Youknow you told me to if ever I were in trouble, so I've taken you atyour word. You don't mind?"

  Mr. Jarvis gulped, and searched for words.

  "Glad," he said at last.

  "I've left _Peaceful Moments_. You know I used to be stenographerthere."

  She was surprised and gratified to see a look of consternation spreaditself across Mr. Jarvis' face. It was a hopeful sign that he shouldtake her cause to heart to such an extent.

  But Mr. Jarvis' consternation was not due wholly to solicitude for her.His thoughts at that moment, put, after having been expurgated, intospeech, might have been summed up in the line: "Of all sad words oftongue or pen the saddest are these, 'It might have been'!"

  "Ain't youse woikin' dere no more? Is dat right?" he gasped. "Gee! Iwisht I'd 'a' known it sooner. Why, a guy come to me and wants to giveme half a ton of the long green to go to dat poiper what youse waswoikin' on and fix de guy what's runnin' it. An' I truns him down 'cosI don't want you to be frown out of your job. Say, why youse quitwoikin' dere?" His eyes narrowed as an idea struck him. "Say," he wenton, "you ain't bin fired? Has de boss give youse de trun-down? 'Cos ifhe has, say de woid and I'll fix him for youse, loidy. An' it won't setyou back a nickel," he concluded handsomely.

  "No, no," cried Betty, horrified. "Mr. Smith has been very kind to me.I left of my own free will."

  Mr. Jarvis looked disappointed. His demeanor was like that of somemediaeval knight called back on the eve of starting out to battle withthe Paynim for the honor of his lady.

  "What was that you said about the man who came to you and offered youmoney?" asked Betty.

  Her mind had flashed back to Mr. Parker's visit, and her heart wasbeating quickly.

  "Sure! He come to me all right an' wants de guy on de poiper fixed. An'I truns him down."

  "Oh! You won't dream of doing anything to hurt Mr. Smith, will you, Mr.Jarvis?" said Betty anxiously.

  "Not if you say so, loidy."

  "And your--friends? You won't let them do anything?"

  "Nope."

  Betty breathed freely again. Her knowledge of the East Side was small,and that there might be those there who acted independently of Mr.Jarvis, disdainful of his influence, did not occur to her. She returnedto her own affairs, satisfied that danger no longer threatened.

  "Mr. Jarvis, I wonder if you can help me. I want to find some work todo," she said.

  "Woik?"

  "I have to earn my living, you see, and I'm afraid I don't know how tobegin."

  Mr. Jarvis pondered. "What sort of woik?"

  "Any sort," said Bettyvaliantly. "I don't care what it is."

  Mr. Jarvis knitted his brows in thought. He was not used to being anemployment agency. But Betty was Betty, and even at the cost of aheadache he must think of something.

  At the end of five minutes inspiration came to him.

  "Say," he said, "what do youse call de guy dat sits an' takes de moneyat an eatin'-joint? Cashier? Well, say, could youse be dat?"

  "It would be just the thing. Do you know a place?"

  "Sure. Just around de corner. I'll take you dere."

  Betty waited while he put on his coat, and they started out. Bettychatted as they walked, but Mr. Jarvis, who appeared a littleself-conscious beneath the unconcealed interest of the neighbors, wassilent. At intervals he would turn and glare ferociously at the headsthat popped out of windows or protruded from doorways. Fame has itspenalties, and most of the population of that portion of the Bowery hadturned out to see their most prominent citizen so romantically employedas a squire of dames.

  After a short walk Bat halted the expedition before a dingy restaurant.The glass window bore in battered letters the name, Fontelli.

  "Dis is de joint," he said.

  Inside the restaurant a dreamy-eyed Italian sat gazing at vacancy andtwirling a pointed mustache. In a far corner a solitary customer wasfinishing a late breakfast.

  Signor Fontelli, for the sad-eyed exile was he, sprang to his feet atthe sight of Mr. Jarvis' well-known figure. An ingratiating, butnervous, smile came into view behind the pointed mustache.

  "Hey, Tony," said Mr. Jarvis, coming at once to the point, "I want youto know dis loidy. She's going to be cashier at dis joint."

  Signor Fontelli looked at Betty and shook his head. He smileddeprecatingly. His manner seemed to indicate that, while she met withthe approval of Fontelli, the slave of her sex, to Fontelli, theemployer, she appealed in vain. He gave his mustache a sorrowful twirl.

  "Ah, no," he sighed. "Not da cashier do I need. I take-a myself damoney."

  Mr. Jarvis looked at him coldly. He continued to look at him coldly.His lower jaw began slowly to protrude, and his forehead retreatedfurther behind its zareba of forelock.

  There was a pause. The signor was plainly embarrassed.

  "Dis loidy," repeated Mr. Jarvis, "is cashier at dis joint at sixper--" He paused. "Does dat go?" he added smoothly.

  Certainly there was magnetism about Mr. Jarvis. With a minimum of wordshe produced remarkable results. Something seemed to happen suddenly toSignor Fontelli's spine. He wilted like a tired flower. A gesture, inwhich were blended resignation, humility, and a desire to be at peacewith all men, particularly Mr. Jarvis, completed his capitulation.

  Mr. Jarvis waited while Betty was instructed in her simple duties, thendrew her aside.

  "Say," he remarked confidentially, "youse'll be all right here. Six perain't all de dough dere is in de woild, but, bein' cashier, see, youcan swipe a whole heap more whenever you feel like it. And if Tonyregisters a kick, I'll come around and talk to him--see? Dat's right.Good-morning, loidy."

  And, having delivered these admirable hints to young cashiers in ahurry to get rich, Mr. Jarvis ducked his head in a species of bow,declined to be thanked, and shuffled out into the street, leaving Bettyto open her new career by taking thirty-seven cents from the latebreakfaster.