Anne laughed at Polly’s vivid disgust, and suggested that they return to the hotel.
“Oh, no, Anne! It is only eight-thirty. And for New York that only begins an evening, you know. Let’s get up on top of one of the buses on Fifth avenue and take the round trip. That ride will show Polly lots of sights: the Flat Iron Building, Riverside Drive and the Hudson, and heaps of things.”
Eleanor prevailed, and after a delightful drive of an hour, the little party was glad to get to the hotel and drop into bed.
CHAPTER II—HOUSE HUNTING IN NEW YORK
Before the westerners awake to the new day, let us renew our acquaintance with them.
Polly Brewster, of Pebbly Pit, born and reared on that wonderful ranch in Colorado where the lava-jewels were found, is for the first time in her fourteen years, away from home. As she is at the most impressionable age, her wise mother authorized Anne Stewart, the young teacher who had spent the summer with the Brewsters and who was engaged to John Brewster, to spare no money when fitting Polly out for her life in New York. Mrs. Brewster wished Polly to feel herself the equal of anyone she met, if it pertained to dress. And style was about the only thing that Polly lacked, having all fine qualities in her character.
Eleanor Maynard, of Chicago, now Polly’s dearest friend, never had to count the cost of anything, as her father was the best known and richest banker of that great city. But because of her ill health, being a protegée of Anne Stewart for the past two years, this association had taught Eleanor to think twice before she wasted her allowance.
And Anne Stewart, just past twenty-one, was experienced for her age, because of her mother’s dependence on her for most things, since the father died many years before this story opens. And Paul, her younger brother now at college in Chicago (where the other boys also studied), was there because his sister earned the money with which to pay his expenses. Now that Anne would participate in the shares of the gold mine that had been discovered the day of the escape on Grizzly Slide, the Stewarts had no need to practise such strict economy as hitherto.
In the morning Polly was awakened by a knock at her door. “Poll, someone wants to speak to you over the ’phone,” said Anne.
“Me? Why, who can it be? I never talked into one of those funny little black horns in my life, Anne. Wait, and help me.”