"Kitty!" I cried. "You treasure!" And with all my might I ran after her.
Silly? Of course it was. I might have known what the short skirts above those thin legs meant. I couldn't come within fifty feet of her. I halted, panting, and she paused, too, dancing tantalizingly half a block away.
What to do? I wished I had another purse to bestow on that sad Kitty, but I had nothing, absolutely nothing, except—all at once I remembered it—that little pin you gave me for Christmas, Mag. I took it off and turned to appeal to the nearest one of the flying body-guard that had accompanied us.
"You run on to her and tell her that if she'll show me the house where that baby lives I'll give her this pin."
He sped on ahead and parleyed with Kit; and while they talked I held aloft the little pin so that Kit might see the price.
She hesitated so long that I feared she'd slip through my hands, but a sudden rival voice piping out, "I'll show ye the house, Missus," was too much for her.
So, with Kit at a safe distance in advance to guard against treachery, and a large and enthusiastic following, I crossed the street, turned a corner, walked down one block and half up another, and halted before a three-story brownstone.
I flew up the stairs, leaving my escort behind, and rang the bell. It wasn't so terribly swagger a place, which relieved me some.
"I want to see the lady whose baby was lost this morning," I said to the maid that opened the door.
"Yes'm. Who'll I tell her?"