Cast Adrift Part 18

Mrs. Bray relented just a little. Mrs. Dinneford pleaded and humiliated herself, and drifted farther into the toils of her confederate.

"You are not rich, Mrs. Bray," she said, at parting, "independent in spirit as you are. I shall add a hundred dollars for your own use; and if ever you stand in need, you will know where to find an unfailing friend."

Mrs. Bray put up her hands, and replied, "No, no, no; don't think of such a thing. I am not mercenary. I never serve a friend for money."

But Mrs. Dinneford heard the "yes" which flushed into the voice that said "no." She was not deceived.

A rapid change pa.s.sed over Mrs. Bray on the instant her visitor left the room. Her first act was to lock the door; her next, to take the roll of bank-bills from the table and put it into her pocket. Over her face a gleam of evil satisfaction had swept.

"Got you all right now, my lady!" fell with a chuckle from her lips. "A vampire, ha!" The chuckle was changed for a kind of hiss. "Well, have it so. There is rich blood in your veins, and it will be no fault of mine if I do not fatten upon it. As for pity, you shall have as much of it as you gave to that helpless baby. Saints don't work in this kind of business, and I'm not a saint."

And she chuckled and hissed and muttered to herself, with many signs of evil satisfaction.

CHAPTER VIII.

_FOR_ an hour Mrs. Bray waited the reappearance of Pinky Swett, but the girl did not come back. At the end of this time a package which had been left at the door was brought to her room. It came from Mrs. Dinneford, and contained two hundred dollars. A note that accompanied the package read as follows:

"Forgive my little fault of temper. It is your interest to be my friend.

The woman must not, on any account, be suffered to come near me."

Of course there was no signature. Mrs. Bray's countenance was radiant as she fingered the money.

"Good luck for me, but bad for the baby," she said, in a low, pleased murmur, talking to herself. "Poor baby! I must see better to its comfort. It deserves to be looked after. I wonder why Pinky doesn't come?"

Mrs. Bray listened, but no sound of feet from the stairs or entries, no opening or shutting of doors, broke the silence that reigned through the house.

"Pinky's getting too low down--drinks too much; can't count on her any more." Mrs. Bray went on talking to herself. "No rest; no quiet; never satisfied; for ever knocking round, and for ever getting the worst of it. She was a real nice girl once, and I always liked her. But she doesn't take any care of herself."

As Pinky went out, an hour before, she met a fresh-looking girl, not over seventeen, and evidently from the country. She was standing on the pavement, not far from the house in which Mrs. Bray lived, and had a traveling-bag in her hand. Her perplexed face and uncertain manner attracted Pinky's attention.

"Are you looking for anybody?" she asked.

"I'm trying to find a Mrs. Bray," the girl answered. "I'm a stranger from the country."

"Oh, you are?" said Pinky, drawing her veil more tightly so that her disfigured face could not be seen.

"Yes I'm from L----."

"Indeed? I used to know some people there."

"Then you've been in L----?" said the girl, with a pleased, trustful manner, as of one who had met a friend at the right time.

"Yes, I've visited there."

"Indeed? Who did you know in L----?"

"Are you acquainted with the Cartwrights?"

"I know of them. They are among our first people," returned the girl.

"I spent a week in their family a few years ago, and had a very pleasant time," said Pinky.

"Oh, I'm glad to know that," remarked the girl. "I'm a stranger here; and if I can't find Mrs. Bray, I don't see what I am to do. A lady from here who was staying at the hotel gave me at letter to Mrs. Bray. I was living at the hotel, but I didn't like it; it was too public. I told the lady that I wanted to learn a trade or get into a store, and she said the city was just the place for me, and that she would give me a letter to a particular friend, who would, on her recommendation, interest he self for me. It's somewhere along here that she lived, I'm sure;" and she took a letter from her pocket and examined the direction.

The girl was fresh and young and pretty, and had an artless, confiding manner. It was plain she knew little of the world, and nothing of its evils and dangers.

"Let me see;" and Pinky reached out her hand for the letter. She put it under her veil, and read,

"MRS. f.a.n.n.y BRAY, "No. 631----street, "----

"By the hand of Miss Flora Bond."

"Flora Bond," said Pinky, in a kind, familiar tone.

"Yes, that is my name," replied the girl; "isn't this----street?"

"Yes; and there, is the number you are looking for."

"Oh, thank you! I'm so glad to find the place. I was beginning to feel scared."

"I will ring the bell for you," said Pinky, going to the door of No.

631. A servant answered the summons.

"Is Mrs. Bray at home?" inquired Pinky.

"I don't know," replied the servant, looking annoyed. "Her rooms are in the third story;" and she held the door wide open for them to enter. As they pa.s.sed into the hall Pinky said to her companion,

"Just wait here a moment, and I will run up stairs and see if she is in."

The girl stood in the hall until Pinky came back.

"Not at home, I'm sorry to say."

"Oh dear! that's bad; what shall I do?" and the girl looked distressed.

"She'll be back soon, no doubt," said Pinky, in a light, a.s.suring voice.

"I'll go around with you a little and see things."

The girl looked down at her traveling-bag.

"Oh, that's nothing; I'll help you to carry it;" and Pinky took it from her hand.

"Couldn't we leave it here?" asked Flora.