The Erie Train Boy

"I shall not say him nay, papa."

"Of course not. He is rich and of distinguished family. He will make a very suitable mate for you."

"Yes, papa, I appreciate that, but you too are rich and of high social position."

"Well, daughter, I stand fairly, but as to family, I can't boast much. My father – your grandfather – was a village blacksmith. I have never told you that before."

"Horrors, papa!" exclaimed Luella. "You cannot mean this?"

"It is a sober fact. I have never told you, for I knew it would shock you."

"Does any one know it in our circle?"

"No. Indeed, the only one who is likely to have any knowledge of it is Mrs. Fenton and her son."

"The train boy!"

"Yes."

"If it should get out I should die of mortification."

"Neither you nor I are likely to mention it. I only referred to it to show the advantages of marrying a man of high lineage like Alfred Lindsay. I have money, but I have never been able to get into the inner circle to which the Lindsays belong. Money will buy much, but it won't buy that. I hope yon will do your best to bring the young mail to the point."

"I will manage it, papa," said Luella complacently. "Do you know I have made up my mind to go to Europe on a wedding trip?"

"If Lindsay consents."

"He will do whatever I wish. I expect him to call this evening."

"Do you?"

"Yes, and – papa, something might happen," added Luella playfully.

"I hope so sincerely, my dear."

"Mind, if he comes to you, not a word about the blacksmith! I wish you hadn't told me."

"Forget it then, Luella. We will keep it a profound secret."

Luella left her father's presence with a smile upon her face. It was already eight o'clock. Half an hour passed, and she became anxious. Fifteen minutes more clipped by, and still the welcome ring at the bell was not heard. She was ready to cry with vexation, for she had made up her mind to lead the young man to a declaration that very evening if it were a possible thing.

She summoned a servant.

"Jane," she said, "Mr. Lindsay has not called this evening, has he?"

"No miss. If he had of course I would tell you."

"I thought perhaps there might have been some mistake. If he should come – and it isn't very late yet – let me know at once."

"Surely I will, Miss Luella."

"She's dead gone on that man," said Jane to herself. "Well, I don't wonder, for he is awfully handsome, that's a fact. But my! if he could only see her in some of her tantrums, he'd open his eyes. He thinks she's an angel, but I know her better."

Several days passed and still Alfred Lindsay did not call. Luella became alarmed. Was she losing her hold upon him? She was considering whether it would be proper to write a letter to the young lawyer at his office, when she chanced to make a very painful discovery.

About five o'clock on Saturday afternoon she was coming out of Lord & Taylor's up-town store when in a plainly dressed girl who was just passing she recognized Ruth Patton. Curiosity led her to address Ruth.

"So you are still in the city?" she said abruptly.

"Yes, Miss Ferguson," answered Ruth calmly.

"Of course you are very poor. I think I can get you a place as chambermaid in the family of one of my friends."

"Thank you, but I have a position I like better."

"What sort of a position?"

"I am in a lawyer's office, copying legal papers."

"Indeed! I suppose you are poorly paid."

"I receive ten dollars a week."

"That is ridiculously high pay. Of course you don't earn it."

"Mr. Lindsay fixed the salary – I did not."

"Lindsay!" gasped Luella, "what Lindsay?"

"Alfred Lindsay. He has his office in the Mills Building."

Ruth Patton passed on, having unconsciously given poignant anguish to the haughty Miss Ferguson.

"Where could she have met Alfred?" Luella asked herself with contracted brow. "I must get him to discharge her. I had no idea she was such an artful minx."

CHAPTER XXII.

MISS FERGUSON WRITES A NOTE

It was indeed true that Ruth Patton had found employment at ten dollars a week. Her services were scarcely worth that sum to her employer, but Alfred Lindsay was not only rich but generous, and was glad to believe Ruth's anxiety by insuring her a comfortable income. She was still at Mrs. Fenton's rooms, being now able to contribute her share of the expense incurred. The widow was willing to accept only three dollars per week, so that Ruth had the satisfaction of sending a weekly remittance to her mother. She was very grateful for the change in her circumstances, and, notwithstanding the disappointment about her father's estate, felt that there was reason to hope.

Two days later Alfred Lindsay found a letter upon his desk addressed in a delicate female hand which he did not recognize.

"A lady client!" he thought. "What does she want – a divorce?"

When he opened the envelope he read the following note, written on a highly perfumed sheet:

MY DEAR MR. LINDSAY: Pray don't be shocked at my boldness in writing you, but it is so long since you have called that papa suggests sickness as a possible cause. I do hope that this is not what has kept you away. I confess that I have missed you very much. I have so enjoyed our conversations. You are not like the fashionable butterflies of whom we meet so many in society. One must tolerate them, of course but it is a comfort to meet a man who can talk intelligently about books and art. Apropos, I have a new collection of etchings that I want to show you. Won't you name an evening when you will call, as I want to be certain to be at home when you really do come. I should be desolated, as the French say, to be absent.