“I’m—sorry—to—inter-rupt—your—beau-tiful—”
“Oh, that isn’t any matter!” Doodles broke in. “Come right and sit down! Take the rocking-chair; it’s easiest.”
“Thank you,” bowed the stranger. “I’m not—used—to stairs.”
“These are pretty steep,” attested Doodles. “They make mother dreadfully out of breath; but Blue runs up as fast, and doesn’t mind ’em at all.”
Before the old man could talk comfortably he let go the query that was impatient on his lips. “Do you know if there’s a girl lives in this building called Moon?” The fine face was pathetic in its eagerness.
“I don’t remember anybody by that name,” answered the boy slowly, thinking hard. Flatiron lodgers were so numerous and so fleeting.
All brightness faded from the wrinkled face, leaving it more weary than before.
“It’s my granddaughter,” the trembling voice explained. “She—went away—she had to, and I don’t blame her a mite!—and she couldn’t tell me where—I do wish she had! A man from our town said he saw her—or thought it was—coming in here one day; but it couldn’t ’a’ been her!” He sighed. “If Horace had just stopped his team, and spoke to her and found out! But you can’t much blame him—she give him the mitten once, and he’s never gotten over it. It’s no wonder the fellows are after her; she’s as pretty as her mother before her. Ye see, she’s my son’s child. Her mother died when she was a little thing, and her father married again. Sarah’s been a good mother to her, only for trying to make a match between her and Zenas; but it’s natural she should think her boy is the whole earth. And he must needs make love to my girl! As for that matter, there ain’t a fellow in town that wouldn’t run his legs off to get one of her smiles. But Zenas Camp! He’s the conceitedest, dudishest numskull I ever set eyes on. Poor child! she couldn’t stand his love-making. So she had to go. She left me a little note, telling me why she couldn’t stay. I wish she’d told me where she was going, but she said she was afraid I’d have to let it out if I knew, and if I didn’t know I couldn’t tell. Now Zenas has up and married the richest old maid in town; so he’s out o’ the way. She could come home well’s not, and I don’t know where to look for her.” He bent his head on his hands.
“I’m sorry,” sympathized Doodles, “I’m awfully sorry! I guess you’ll find her; I feel’s if you would.”
“I’ve got to!” The old frame straightened. “To think of her—innocent little thing!—being in a big city like this, all alone, makes me wild! I must find her! I guess I’m ’bout rested enough to go on. I wish you’d sing me just one piece before I go.”