A Daughter of the Forest

by Evelyn Raymond

  CHAPTER XXI

  IN THE GREAT RAILWAY STATION

  "There, dear, you are better. Drink this."

  Margot opened her eyes in the big waiting-room for women at the greatstation. A kind-faced woman in a white cap and apron was bending overher and holding a cup of bouillon to her lips, which obediently openedand received the draught with grateful refreshment.

  "Thank you. That is good. Where am I? Who are you?"

  The attendant explained: and added, with intent to comfort:

  "You are all right. You will be cared for. It was the long goingwithout food and the sudden confusion of arrival. The Indian says youhave not eaten in a long time. He is here, I could not keep him out.Is--is he safe?"

  The hot, strong soup, and the comforting presence restored the girl sofar that she could laugh.

  "Joe safe? Our own dear old Joseph Wills? Why, madam, he is the verybest guide in all the state of Maine. Aren't you, Joe? And my uncle'smost trusted friend. Else he would not be here with me. What happenedto me that things got so queer?"

  "You fainted. That's all."

  "I? Why, I never did such a thing in my life before."

  Joe drew near. His face seemed still impassive but there was a look ofprofound concern in his small, black eyes.

  "Wouldn' eat. Get sick. Joe said. Joe hungry, too."

  Margot sat up, instantly, smitten with remorse. If this uncomplainingfriend admitted hunger she must have been remiss, indeed.

  "Oh, dear madam! Please get him something to eat, or show him where toget it for himself. This last part of the road, or journey, was solong. The train didn't stop anywhere, hardly, and I saw none of theeating places I had seen on the other trains. We were late, too, instarting, and had no breakfast. My own head whirls yet, and poor Joemust be famished. I have money, plenty, to pay for everything."

  The station matron called an attendant and put Joe in his charge. She,also, ordered a tray of food brought from the restaurant and madeMargot eat. Indeed, she was now quite ready to do this and heartily;and her appetite appeased, she told the motherly woman as much of herstory as was necessary; asking her advice about a stopping place, andif she, too, thought it true that the widow's house had beendemolished.

  "Oh, yes, miss. I know that myself, for I live not so far from thatstreet. It is, or was, an old-fashioned one, and full of big housesthat had once been grand but had run down. The property was valuable,though, and no doubt the widow bettered herself by selling. Morethan that, if she is still in the city, her name should be in thedirectory. I'll look it up and if I find it, telephone her. After wedo that will be time enough to look for some other place, if she isnot to be found."

  Margot did not understand all this, and wondered what this quiet,orderly person had to do with the starting of trains, which she couldhear continually moving out and in the monster building, even thoughshe could not see them from this inner room. But this wonder was soonlost in a fresh surprise as, having consulted a big book which waschained to a desk in one corner, the matron came forward, smiling.

  "I've found the name, miss. Spelled just as you gave it to me. Thenumber is away up town, in Harlem. But I'll ring her up and see."

  Again the matron crossed the room, toward a queer looking arrangementon the wall; but, a new train arriving, the room so filled with womenand children that she had no more leisure to attend to Margot.However, she managed to tell her:

  "Don't worry. I'll be free soon again, for a minute. And I'll tellthat Indian to sit just outside the door, if you wish. You can sitthere with him, too, if it makes you feel more at home. You're allright now, and will not faint again."

  "No, indeed. I never did before nor shall again, I hope."

  Yet Margot was very thankful when she and Joe were once more side byside, and now amused herself in studying the crowds about her.

  "Oh! Joe, there are more 'types' here in a minute than one could seeat home in years. Look. That's a Swede. I know by the shape of hisface, and his coloring. Though I never saw a live Swede before."

  "Wonder if she ever saw a dead one!" said a voice in passing, andMargot knew she had been ridiculed, yet not why. Then, too, she sawthat many glances were turned upon the bench where she and Joe sat,apart from the crowd and, for almost the first time, became consciousthat in some way she looked not as other people. However, she wasneither over-sensitive nor given to self-contemplation and she hadperfect faith in her uncle's judgment. He had lived in this greatcity, he knew what was correct. He had told her to ask the widow tosupply her with anything that was needed. She had nothing to do nowbut wait till the widow was found, and then she could go on about themore important business which had brought her hither.

  As she remembered that business, her impatience rose. She was now, shemust be, not only within a few miles of her unknown father, but of theman who had wronged him, whom she was to compel to right that wrong.She sprang to her feet. The crowd that had filled the waiting-room wasagain thinning, for a time, and the matron should be free. Would shenever come?

  "Then I'll go to her! Stay right here, Joe. Don't leave this place aminute now till I get back. Then we'll not lose each other. I'll comefor you as soon as I can."

  Joe grunted his assent and closed his eyes. He, too, was conscious ofstaring eyes and indignant at them. Had nobody ever seen an Indianbefore? Were not these clothes that he was wearing the Master's giftand of the same sort all these other men wore? Let them gaze, if thatsuited the simple creatures. As for him he was comfortable. The benchwas no harder than the ground. Not much harder. He would sleep. Hedid.

  But Margot found the matron doing a strange thing. She had a long piperunning from a box on the wall, and sometimes she was calling into it,or a hole beside it, in the most absurd way: "Hello! Hello, Central!"or else she was holding the tube to her ear and listening.

  "What is it? What are you doing?"

  "The telephone. I'm ringing up your friend. I'll tell you what I hear,soon."

  Even the matron rather objected to having this oddly-dressed,inquisitive girl continually at hand, asking questions. She was busyand tired, and Margot understood that she was dismissed to her benchand Joe.

  There she settled herself to think. It was time she did. If thisfriendly widow, whom her family had always known, could not be found,where should she go? To some hotel she supposed, and wondered whichand where.

  She was still deep in her musings when the matron touched her arm.

  "I got an answer. The number is all right. It is the lady's home whenshe is in town, but she has been in the country all summer. Theboarding-house--it's that--is closed except for the janitor, and hedoesn't know where she has gone. That's all."

  It might be "all," but it made the woodlander's heart sink. Then shelooked up and saw a vaguely familiar profile, yet she knew nobody, hadseen nobody at home, and not even on her journey, whom she couldremember to have been just like this.

  It was the face of a young man, who was dressed like all these othercity men about her, though with a something different and finer in thefit and finish of the light gray suit he wore. A slight moustachedarkened his upper lip, and he fingered this lovingly, as one might anew possession. A gray haired lady leaned lightly on his arm and hecarried her wraps upon his other. Suddenly she spoke to him, as theymoved outward toward a suburban train, and he smiled down upon her. Itwas the smile that revealed him--Adrian.

  "Why, how could I fail to know him! Adrian--then all is right!"

  She forgot Joe and all else save that retreating figure which she mustovertake, and dashed across the room regardless of the people whohindered her progress, and among whom she darted with lightning-likespeed.

  "Adrian! Adrian! ADRIAN!"

  Their train was late, the lady had been helped to the last platform,and the young man sprang after her just as it was moving out. He heardhis own name and turned, wondering and startled, to see a light-hairedgirl fiercely protesting against a blue-coated official, who firmlybarred her passage beyond the stile into the dan
gerous region of ahundred moving cars.

  "Your ticket, miss! Your train--which is it?"

  "Ticket! It's Adrian I want. Adrian, who has just gone on thatcar--oh, so fast, so fast! Adrian!"

  "Too bad, miss, and too late. Sorry. The next train out will not bemany minutes. Likely your friends will wait for you at your station.Which is it?"

  "My friends? Oh! I don't know. I guess--I guess I haven't any."

  She turned away slowly, her heart too heavy for further speech, evenhad there been any speech possible; and there was Joe, the faithfuland silent, laying his hand on her shoulder and guiding her back totheir own bench.

  "One girl runs away, get lost. Joe go home no more."

  "Poor Joe, dear Joe. I had no idea of running away. But I sawsomebody, that boy who was at the island this summer, and I tried tomake him see me. Too late, as the man said. He has gone, and now we,too, must go somewhere. I'll ask that nice woman. She'll tell us, Ithink," and she again sought the matron.

  "Yes. I do know a good place for you, if--they'll take you in. Meaningno harm miss, but you see, you aren't fixed just the same, and theIndian----"

  "Is it a question of clothes? It's not the clothing makes thecharacter, my uncle says."

  "No, miss, I suppose not. All the same they go a mighty long waytoward making friends, leastways in this big city. And Indians----"

  "Joe Wills is just as noble and as honest as any white man everlived!"

  "Maybe so. Indeed, I'm not denying it, but Indians are Indians, andsome landladies might think of tomahawks."

  Margot's laugh rang out and the other smiled in sympathy.

  "Joe, Joe! Would you scalp anybody?"

  Then, indeed, was the red man's impassivity broken by a grin, whichhappily relieved the situation, fast becoming tragic.

  "Well, I'm not wise in city ways but I know that I can find a safeshelter somewhere. I'm going to ask that policeman, yonder, to find usa place."

  "That's sensible, and I'll talk with him myself. If he isn't on dutylikely he'll take you to my friend's himself. By the way, who was thatyou ran after and called to so loud? You shouldn't do that in a big,strange station, you know."

  "I suppose not; yet I needed him so, and it was Adrian, who's been atmy own home all summer. If he'd heard, or seen me, he would have takenall the care, because this is where he's always lived. The samefamiliar spot that--that dear Peace Island is to Joe and me," shesaid, with a catch in her voice and laying her hand affectionatelyupon his sleeve.

  "Adrian? A Mr. Adrian?"

  "Why, no. He is a Wadislaw. His father's name is Malachi Wadislaw, andmy business here is with him."

  "Wadislaw, the banker? Why then, of course, it's all right. Officer,please call a cab and take them to Number -- West Twenty-fifth Street.That's my friend's; and say I sent them."