Meantime what was Mrs. Roberts to do for this new-born soul? How was she to help her, and, through her, to help her brother?
She, in her elegant home, sat down to study this problem.
Life at East Fifty-fifth Street was so far removed from life in the alley that she knew nothing about the missing father. Days passed, and, busy with many claims of society, she had made no movement toward helping the girl, and knew as yet no way to do it; yet she carried her on her heart. Monday evening came and went, and still she had been detained from any effort.
One afternoon her thoughts shaped themselves into action. She would go and see Mart. She would get Dirk to protect her in her journey down the alley; also, in accomplishing this, she would accomplish another thing. She would call on Dirk at his place of business. The chief of the office was a Christian man; yet she had reason to believe that he knew less about Dirk, and cared much less for him, than he did for his little dog, who sat in the window and barked at passers-by.
She had no difficulty in securing attention. Ladies were not often admitted, but a card bearing the name “Mrs. Evan Roberts” was sufficient passport among any of the business men of the city.
Mr. Stone was more than ready, he was eager to serve her. What could he do for the elegantly-dressed lady whose carriage waited at the door, while she came in person among the bales and boxes? Her business must be urgent.
It was. Could she speak with Mr. Colson just for a moment? She would not detain him long; but she wished to make an appointment with him for the next day.
“Mr. Colson!” The chief and his perplexed assistant looked at each other thoughtfully, and shook their heads. There was no such person connected with their establishment. She must have the wrong number.
No; she was positive.
“He told me only three days ago that he was in your employ. He is on the third floor, I believe.”