CHAPTER XVII
GOLDSTEIN'S JEWELRY STORE
There was this time for Ellen no interested inspection of the landscape. Her gaze, directed to the back of the next seat, did not lift to the hat of its occupant, but remained fixed upon the dusty red plush. In the fields men and women were cutting corn, their blue jeans suits the color of the river which reflected in a darker tone the clear sky. Here and there showed a red or yellow branch and there were masses of weeds which were already brown.
During her journey, which seemed like the day of Matthew's wedding, both long and short, Ellen made futile efforts to assemble and arrange her thoughts. The act which she was now executing she had dreamed of innumerable times, but her rage with Matthew and Millie had driven her to it before she was wholly prepared for independence. Her thoughts recurred bitterly to the scene of the evening before. Millie was evil-minded, hateful; she had bewitched Matthew into marrying her by pretending to be better than she was; she persuaded him now to claim everything for himself, to prevent Ellen from going to school in order that she herself might have more.
She suspected that it was Millie who had suggested felling the trees. But of that sacrilege she could not think and keep her composure. She heard the rasping sound of the wood saw; she watched the mighty trunks crash down, emitting almost human sounds of pain. Matthew should be punished; he should be made to suffer an equivalent for all that he had made her suffer.
She understood, however, that one could not safely allow one's mind to be forever occupied with one's wrongs. She now had her future in her own hands, and she did not doubt that work would be easily secured. In the hundreds of stores there would be a place for her; where so many persons were gathered all kinds of workers would be needed. She did not doubt her ability to sell goods of any sort. She might find it necessary to take a humble position at first, but she would rise rapidly.
When she reached the dark train-shed in Harrisburg, hands and knees were trembling. The waiting-room was crowded with passengers for an excursion train, and she felt the country-dweller's discomfort and irritation at being jostled. There had been no time to notify Mrs. Sassaman, but she was like the sun, she did not move from place to place. Ellen inquired the way to Hill Street and signaled the proper car.
But the car did not stop. A second also sailed by, but the third was driven by a motorman of friendlier spirit who motioned to the opposite corner, and she climbed aboard, conscious of eyes upon her. She became immediately aware that she did not look like the other women, that her dress and coat were a size too small, and that the style of her hat bore no relation to the present fashion.
When she found at last the house of Mrs. Sassaman's sister, Mrs. Lebber, she stood still in dismay. One of a sordid row hanging on the edge of a hillside above the railroad yards, even the bright September sunshine could not make it seem a possible abode. There must be a mistake! But a little marker on the house itself said "Hill Street," and this was Number 34.