“I ain’t up in United States geography. But I know there’s a big country the other side of the North River.”
Helen laughed. “I come from a good ways beyond the river,” she said.
“Well, I’ll have to get back to the store. Old Jacob will give me fits.”
“Oh, dear! and I’m keeping you,” cried Helen.
“I should worry!” exploded the other, slangily. “I’m only a ‘puller-in.’ I ain’t a saleslady. Come on and I’ll throw a scare into that taxi-driver. Watch me.”
This sort of girl was a revelation to Helen. She was frankly independent herself; but Sadie Goronsky showed an entirely different sort of independence.
“See here you, Mr. Man!” exclaimed the Jewish girl, attracting the attention of the taxicab driver, who had not left his seat. “Whadderyer mean by bringing this young lady down here to Madison Street when with half an eye you could ha’ told that she belonged on Madison Avenyer?”
“Heh?” grunted the man.
“Now, don’t play no greenie trick with me,” commanded Sadie. “I gotcher number, and I know the company youse woik for. You take this young lady right to the correct address on the avenyer—and see that she don’t get robbed before you get her there. You get in, Miss Morrell. Don’t you be afraid. This chap won’t dare take you anywhere but to your uncle’s house now.”
“She said Madison Street,” declared the taxicab driver, doggedly.