When she reached the lodging-house she found a pleasant faced man at the desk, who spoke to her kindly when she stated her errand.
“There’s been a boy here for two weeks by the name of Bert Jackson,” he said at once, “but he went away yesterday because he had no money. He’ll show up again, I presume, so you can leave a note for him if you wish.”
“Poor Bert!” cried Marion impulsively, “but what will he do without any money?”
“You can trust that kid for getting along,” said the gentleman laughing. “He’s the oldest sixteen year old I ever saw. Why he’s as bright as a New York boy already, yet he tells me he has always lived in the country.”
A half dozen ragged boys came in just then and stood eyeing Marion in great astonishment. The young girl soon caught some whispered remarks, which she knew were intended to express admiration.
“She’s de swellest t’ing wots come down de pike! Bert Jackson must belong ter de high-mucker-mucks ter have loidies in togs like dose a comin’ ter see him!”
“She’s er Jim Dandy fer fair! Oh, why ain’t I got one coming wid me? Dat’s my bloomin’ luck!” was the whispered answer.
The gentleman at the desk was just handing Marion a pencil when a commotion in the street made them both turn and look out of the window.
“It’s Bert Jackson! De cops got ’im!” yelled one of the boys, and in a second the whole group of them were out on the sidewalk.
“Oh, it is Bert,” cried Marion, as she caught sight of her friend, standing up very straight with a policeman’s hand on his shoulder.