The Dark Star

Somebody must help her to find a railroad station and a train. That

gradually became clear to her. But when she realised that, a young man

sauntered up beside her and looked at her so intently that her

calmness gave way and she turned her head sharply to conceal the

starting tears.

"Hello, girlie," he said. "Got anythin' on tonight?"

With head averted, she stood there, rigid, dumb, her tear-drenched

eyes fixed on the park; and after one or two jocose observations the

young man became discouraged and went away. But he had thrust the fear

of strangers deep into her heart; and now she dared not ask any man

for information. However, when two young women passed she found

sufficient courage to accost them, asking the direction of the

railroad station from which trains departed for Gayfield.

The women, who were young and brightly coloured in plumage, displayed

a sympathetic interest at once.

"Gayfield?" repeated the blonder of the two. "Gee, dearie, I never

heard of that place."

"Is it on Long Island?" inquired the other.

"No. It is in Mohawk County."

"That's a new one, too. Mohawk County? Never heard of it; did you,

Lil?"

"Search me!"

"Is it up-state, dearie?" asked the other. "You better go over to

Madison Avenue and take a car to the Grand Central----"

"Wait," interrupted her friend; "she better take a taxi----"

"Nix on a taxi you pick up on Sixth Avenue!" And to Rue, curiously

sympathetic: "Say, you've got friends here, haven't you, little one?"

"No."

"What! You don't know anyone in New York!"

Rue looked at her dumbly; then, of a sudden, she remembered Neeland.

"Yes," she said, "I know one person."

"Where does your friend live?"

In her reticule was the paper on which he had written the address of

the Art Students' League, and, as an afterthought, his own address.

Rue lifted the blue silk bag, opened it, took out her purse and found

the paper.

"One Hundred and Six, West Fifty-fifth Street," she read; "Studio No.

10."

"Why, that isn't far!" said the blonder of the two. "We are going that

way. We'll take you there."

"I don't know--I don't know him very well----"

"Is it a man?"

"Yes. He comes from my town, Gayfield."

"Oh! I guess that's all right," said the other woman, laughing. "You

got to be leery of these men, little one. Come on; we'll show you."

It was only four blocks; Ruhannah presently found herself on the steps

of a house from which dangled a sign, "Studios and Bachelor

Apartments to Let."

"What's his name?" said the woman addressed as Lil.

"Mr. Neeland."

By the light of the vestibule lantern they inspected the letter boxes,

found Neeland's name, and pushed the electric button.