With tears of pity and regret dimming her own blue eyes, Jessica slipped a sustaining arm around the other’s waist and eagerly assured her:
“Nor shall you go if you’re not really hurt. You shall go home, right home, if you’ll tell me where and this policeman will get a carriage for us.”
The Californian was making prompt use of the knowledge she had already gained concerning this strange city. Policemen were the proper persons to direct, in time of trouble, and carriages might be had at any and all times and everywhere. Street-cars were confusingly abundant but of these she knew nothing and was afraid.
It was the officer who recalled her to the fact that hiring carriages costs money, and:
“Can you pay for it, miss? Your name and address, please. Whoa, there, you brute! Was there nobody with you? Don’t you know better than to ride like that, right here in the city?”
“No, I didn’t. My name is Jessica Trent. I’m just from California and I don’t know much about New York. My cousin, Mrs. Dalrymple, lives at Number —— Washington Square, and I live with her. She has money, and will pay the carriage man. I haven’t any—not here. But I wasn’t alone, only that old hired horse wouldn’t travel and—Ah! here he comes! Ephraim, Ephraim!”
Though he had failed to keep her in sight, the despised hack-horse had had intelligence enough to follow the course his late companion, Buster, had taken, and now brought “Forty-niner” to his “Captain’s” side.
“Why, Lady Jess! Whatever’s this?” demanded the astonished ranchman, beholding his beloved child standing in the middle of the street, with her arm about the waist of a ragged, hunchbacked girl, and a tray full of flowers lying on the stones before them. The flowers were sadly trampled and bruised, and Buster had planted one restless hoof plump through the wicker tray.
“I—We run over, or knocked her down, this dear, poor little flower-girl, I guess she is. I want to get a carriage and take her home. Have you got any money? This policeman says I must have it first.”
Ephraim slowly dismounted and slipping his own horse’s bridle over one arm, coolly relieved the officer of Buster’s, much to the delight of that person in uniform. Then he demanded: