The woman examined the transfer-slip, glanced at a clock on a near-by building, and shook her head.
“That’s the car, all right, but that transfer’s no good. After fifteen minutes they won’t take ’em, and it’s half an hour or more. No. You’ll have to pay a second fare. I’ll help you on, if you like. Where do you live?”
“Ninety-seven, Dingy street.”
“The land! That’s almost the jumping off place of the city. Did they give you only money enough to ride twice.”
“My mother gave me ten cents,” answered Mary Jane, proudly, yet somehow, the fortune which had seemed so big, a little while before, now appeared very small and inadequate.
“Pshaw! If I had a cent I’d give it to you. I don’t know what you’d better do.”
“I know. I’ll walk. And thank you for telling me the way. If I keep right on this street, and go up and up, will I surely, surely get there.”
“Sure. I know, ’cause I used to clean up in that neighborhood. I hope you’ll have luck. Good-by.”
“Good-by,” answered Mary Jane, smilingly.
The momentary pause and conversation had rested her and she now felt wholly equal to any demands upon her strength. If she had merely to follow this one avenue till she came in sight of the monument and the lion, why! that was as easy as A, B, C! So she set out with fresh courage and full enjoyment of every novel sight or sound by the way; though, all the while, watchfully reading the street sign at every corner she reached.