"You have interested one of the richest young men in New York in your behalf," said the policeman, after they had passed on.
Ida did not ask the name of her benefactor, though she felt deeply grateful for the kind service he had rendered her.
The matron of the home for friendless girls received the young girl with the kindliness that characterized her.
She assigned her a little cot, and, wretched and footsore, Ida May threw herself upon it and sobbed herself to sleep.
The matron looked at her as she passed through the long dormitory on her way to her room.
"She has a sweet face!" she muttered, as she turned away; "but one on which a tragedy is written."
Ida May was sitting in the reception-room when the matron passed through it the next morning, and she asked her if there was anything she could do for her.
"If you could only tell me, please, where I could find something to do," she answered. "I must find work, or—starve!"
"When do you wish to look for a situation?" asked the matron, noting how wan and pale the girl looked.