“Don’t mind her, Dissy,” said Priscilla, hugging her sister’s arm. “She’s ugly mean.”
“Hush!” was the only word Desiré could utter just then. It took all the courage she was able to muster to approach the next travelers, a fat man and two women.
“Would you care to buy a souvenir?” asked Desiré, her heart beating very fast.
“Bless my soul, no!” replied the man, not unkindly but very definitely. “Too much luggage now.”
Only the thoughts of helping Jack urged the girl to persevere. Trembling, dripping with perspiration, she stopped a couple of women who shook their heads before she could get a word out. Seeing the look of disappointment on her face, the younger of the two held out a coin, saying—“I don’t want your wares, but take this.”
Stung to the quick, but realizing that no injury was intended, Desiré refused and walked away, ready to cry.
“I’d have taken it if I’d been you,” commented Priscilla.
“Of course you wouldn’t, Prissy. We do not beg. But I guess nobody wants our souvenirs—and I thought them so pretty. We’d better try to find the Public Gardens, where Jack told us to meet him.”
“I think the station is a bad place, anyway,” said Priscilla. “The people are in too much of a hurry, and they did all have a lot of baggage. Maybe we can find somewhere else.”
By asking directions a number of times, they arrived at the Public Gardens—the big iron gates opening into acres of gay flower beds, rare and valuable trees, winding streams, artistic bridges. They were about to enter, when a man who, at a safe distance, had been watching them in the station, and who had followed them to the Gardens, now hurried forward.