there was but one really fast train between fayre and new york, and that left fayre at quarter to eight in the morning. not too early, however, for rob, acting rapidly on her hardly won permission to go to the rescue of her family, to be ready to take her place among its passengers.

there had been wild excitement in the little grey house on the previous night, after that permission had been won, getting together rob's few requirements for her unwonted journey, and discussing in all its aspects the great feat she was to perform.

but now her pretty face, pale under the black hat surmounting the wayward hair, and big-eyed from sorrow and excitement, looked with brave smiles out of the car-window at wythie and prue and the rutherford boys on the platform as they waved rob on her way, and the train[209] started. rob had never felt more childish and dependent in her life than now, when, for the first time, she was acting like a woman, and going down to the great city to try to arrange a most important business matter.

when fayre station was left behind, and wythie and prue could no longer see her, rob allowed herself a good cry—the world seemed so big and hollow, and she felt so little and helpless! but in half an hour she was drying her eyes, and beginning to lay her plans, and to wonder, with quickened heart-beats, which were rather stimulating than depressing, how she was to find mr. baldwin, or even broadway, since she did not know one street from another in the maelstrom that is the second city of the world.

it was almost the bright-faced rob whom her father had known that drew her breath long and hard after the tedious tunnel was passed, and began setting herself right and pulling herself together as irregular and ugly buildings slipped by her in crowds, and the train entered the grand central station.

she took her place in the line, edging her suit-case—hastily borrowed from the rutherfords late the preceding night—between the wedged passengers, and crawled along toward the door,[210] too confused to feel much beyond a strong wish that the person in front of her was shorter and leaned back less, since he entirely prevented her hat from keeping straight.

out on the platform rob still held her place in the crowd, and found herself at last standing bewildered near the forty-second street exits, wondering what she was to do next, and which way to turn to do it.

people jostled her without her knowing it, until a vicious shove of her case, and a muttered remark that reminded her of farmer flinders's addresses to his horse, aroused rob to the fact that she was, in her small degree, impeding the course of progress, and she stepped out on the sidewalk and into the babel of "cayb? want a cayb, miss?" while the cab-drivers threatened her face with their whips.

rob espied a tall policeman and steered her course for him through the maddening bedlam around her.

"please tell me how to go to broadway?" she said, looking up appealingly under her over-shadowing hat.

"straight along that way—you can't miss it," said the policeman. "no, wait a bit. what part of broadway do ye be wantin'?"

[211]

"it's near liberty street, if you know where that is," said rob.

"oh, well, that's different. stand one side here a minute an' i'll tell ye. ye don't know n'yawk?" asked the policeman, taking kindly interest in rob's case.

she shook her head, and the mammoth guardian of the peace considered, at the same time raising his hand warningly to two encroaching truckmen, and giving the time of day to a frantic woman who carried a bird-cage in her hand and a spaniel under her arm.

"you might take the t'ird avner l, but ye'd niver find your way over, i'm thinkin'—get out at fulton street—no, 'twouldn't do!" the policeman meditated aloud. "an' takin' these fourt' avner trolleys is as bad. ye take this crosstown, and get out at broadway—tell the conducther to let ye out on the downtown side. there ye'll take a downtown broadway car—see? ask, if ye're not sure—an' keep on it till ye get to your number. you can't miss it thin. not at all, miss; it's wan of our juties to help people. wait, till i put ye on the car—it's confusin' here, wid the subway an' all. good luck to ye, miss."

poor rob, feeling like a maiden of legend surrounded by dragons, with the yawning, yet[212] unfinished, subway threatening her on one side, and insanely rushing crowds mercilessly assaulting her on all sides, gladly let the big policeman's strong arm clear a way for her to the car, which came westward through forty-second street.

"broadway!" called the conductor, to whom she had confided her desire to know when that point was reached, and rob was surprised to see six people, beside herself, rise to their feet, plunge off the car, and the men run as for their lives to swing themselves on another car, going in a different direction, just ahead of them.

"there can't be many broadway cars," thought rob, but looked up and down to see an interminable line of them coming both ways, and decided that this was the new york unreasonable rush, of which she had heard so much.

a woman with a gentle face, whom rob timidly approached, put her in the way of getting the car she desired, and she perched herself sideways on the edge of the seat, watching feverishly the numbers, until she realized that she was twelve hundred numbers above the one which her father had given her as that of mr. baldwin's office, and subsided for a time to watch the whirl of life around her, with a dizzy interest that precluded all possibility of thought.

[213]

keenly alive as she was in every sense, rob could not help enjoying the ride, though it did seem interminable. beautiful shops, displaying everything a girl cares for, were left behind, great buildings began to tower on either hand; truckmen swore at their horses, small boys tried to see how near they could come to the fender of the car in which rob rode, yet escape unscathed; timid women ran—very like farmer flinders's chickens—head down and arms swinging, before the car, having waited until it was almost upon them; broadway narrowed, yet increased in interest at every block.

an open square, set on three sides with picturesque old buildings—one really beautiful among them—and a statue which rob immediately recognized as a figure of nathan hale, turned her thoughts to the revolutionary new york into which the car had brought her, but seeing, too, that the street numbers had decreased to the second hundred a few blocks lower down, her mind swung with renewed concentration to her own affairs, and her heart fluttered nervously.

poised on the seat, ready for flight, she kept anxious watch, and at cortlandt street signalled the conductor to stop. threading her way with difficulty through the narrow way, crowded at[214] an hour so near noon, her suit-case proving a menace to others and a trial to herself, rob found at last the number she sought. without giving herself time to be more afraid, she plunged in at the wide doorway, and joined the group waiting for an elevator to descend.

"mr. baldwin's office?" rob said, low, to the man whose touch on the lever had caused the elevator to shoot upward, and all rob's powers to seem to sink downward to her feet. the elevator was packed with passengers, all men, some of whom removed their hats, but most of whom kept them on, and stared at the young girl in mourning, with the wonderful hair, and the big, frightened eyes.

"ninth floor," said the man, and continued his rising career.

on the ninth floor rob, at a forcible reminder from the elevator man, stepped out, dizzy and confused, clutching her unwieldy case, her sole link with the life she had known. it seemed to her, as she stood staring at the door on which the too plain letters, black on the ground-glass, told her she had found john lester baldwin, that there was not left of the old, venturesome roberta grey even a voice to announce that person.

[215]

"don't be a goose, rob," she said, giving herself a vigorous mental shake. "the idea of insisting on coming, only to cave before the door!" she turned the handle softly and entered.

a tall man, with a close-cropped, full beard, and keen yet kind eyes, sat at a desk dictating to his typewriter; he looked up as roberta entered, and seemed surprised—which was not strange—at the sight of a young girl armed with a suit-case, as if she had come to stay.

"mr. baldwin?" inquired rob, faintly, setting down the case, and thus giving herself even more an air of permanency.

"my name is baldwin, yes," said the lawyer, rising politely. "this is——?"

"roberta grey. my father—i am sylvester grey's daughter; do you remember him?" said poor rob.

"sylvester grey, my old college mate? well, rather! my child, i am truly glad to see you, though you make me feel older, finding you so tall, than my own girl does—perhaps because i am used to her," said mr. baldwin, coming over to take both of rob's hands so heartily, that, to her annoyance, she could not keep back the tears. "i have heard nothing of grey for some time.[216] come into my private office," he added, seeing the brimming eyes, and noting, with a quick change in his own, the black garments his young visitor wore.

mr. baldwin led the way to an inner, much smaller room, and put rob into a chair.

"what has happened, my dear?" he asked, gently. "i am afraid you have nothing to tell me that i shall want to hear. you have come to me because your father told you that if you needed counsel, his old chum would gladly give it you? he was right, but i fear you need it because sylvester can counsel you no longer—is this so?"

rob made a brave struggle to control her voice, helped by the low, even tones, and the little pats on her black sleeve which this good man was giving her—as if, she thought, she were a little child in need of comfort.

"my father had been working hard on a patent for years, mr. baldwin," said rob. "he had angina pectoris, and the doctor warned him of the danger if he did not rest, but he could not rest, because we are poor, and he wanted to make us comfortable. he worked harder than ever, in fact, and now the machine is done. but the very day after a man came from here to[217] see it, and told him it was a success, my dear father——"

rob stopped short, and mr. baldwin patted her hand without speaking for a few moments.

"he had a sweet and beautiful nature, dear, and lived a life that was ideal, in many ways, and that end is mercifully quick. he must have been most happy to know that he had succeeded in providing for you," mr. baldwin said at last.

"the last words he said to mardy and me were full of that thought, mr. baldwin. we left him to sleep, and when we came back he had gone," said rob, trying to smile in the kind face smiling at her, though there were tears in the eyes of sylvester grey's old chum. "this was eleven days ago. i don't want to bother you, mr. baldwin, but it was to ask advice that i came. the invention patergrey made was a bricquette machine. nobody else understood it—not even mardy—but i did, because i helped him on it for a long time—read his papers and worked the model, and handed him things, and all that, you know. patergrey called me his 'son rob'; we were especially much to each other. what i want is to ask you how much that invention is really worth? this mr. marston, the man who, as i told you, came to see it, asked patergrey to[218] let his firm have the option—don't you call it?—on the invention, and after he was gone patergrey gave me your name and address, and said he intended writing you to ask you what its value was—i was to remind him to do it. but the next day he died, so suddenly, and we were left to dispose of the machine. we had a letter from mr. marston three days ago, offering us four thousand dollars for the invention, and telling us we must take it at once if we wanted it, or it would be withdrawn. all the rest want to accept it, but i begged hard to be allowed to come to see you, and for mardy to write this man, telling him we must have a little time to think about it. for you see, mr. baldwin, patergrey said he would not accept less than fifty thousand dollars, and i can't forget that. besides, i think there must be something wrong about a man who offers so little, and wants us to take it that minute."

"what do you know about business, child?" asked mr. baldwin. "i wish witnesses on the stand stated matters so clearly."

"i only know what i tell you, mr. baldwin," said rob, feeling cheered. "i suppose mardy wouldn't have listened to me at all, but that i had been patergrey's right-hand man all this[219] time, and she felt as though he had given me a right in the case; as it was, i had an awful time getting her to let me come here and make mr. marston wait, and you can see that i must be frightened to take such responsibility, because if we did lose this offer, and got no other, it would be awful, and i should be to blame—no one else."

"i think you needn't be alarmed, roberta—you said roberta, didn't you? you are quite right in your reasoning; a genuine offer for a valuable thing would probably be open for a few days, and its owners should be allowed to investigate. do you think he knows your father has gone, this marston of yours?" asked mr. baldwin.

"oh, yes; he spoke of it when he wrote," said rob.

"then you are more than ever right. let me tell you, my child, that i admire your courage and strength of purpose very greatly. i'll send my clerk with a note to a friend of mine—a patent lawyer—and ask on general principles what such an invention might be worth, if it were worth anything—we see this is worth at least the sum offered. you lay off your hat while i write, and then you will sit here and talk to me while we wait the answer; i want to hear all about[220] you, and my messenger won't be long." mr. baldwin drew up to the desk and wrote a note, rang a bell, and dispatched it, and then helped rob divest herself of her coat and hat, and put her comfortably in the window while he won from her the story of the simple life lived in the little grey house, and learned to know the wife and children of his dead friend, whose family he had never met. rob talked freely, drawn out of herself by the kindly charm which went far toward making mr. baldwin the successful lawyer that he was. he read between the lines, understanding much that rob did not realize she was betraying, and he saw how fine had been the courage that had sustained his friend's wife while sylvester had been accounted a failure, and how great had been the love for one another that had made life so sweet in the little grey house, while it lacked so much that less wise people consider more essential.

at last the clerk returned, and handed mr. baldwin the answer to his note. the lawyer read it and gave it to rob without comment. in it mr. baldwin's friend stated concisely that, although it was obviously impossible to give an opinion as to the value of something of which he knew practically nothing, he could say that it[221] was worth a good deal, if it were worth anything, and that in either case four thousand dollars was a preposterous offer—it was worth nothing, or it was worth decidedly a great deal more than that.

"that's what i thought!" cried rob, starting to her feet, joyously. "oh, mr. baldwin, i am so relieved—i was so frightened!"

"as frightened as your namesake, general roberts, at the head of his troops," smiled her new friend. "braving an unknown city and a grim, unknown lawyer for the cause of right!"

"why, they call me 'bobs' after general roberts at home when i'm unusually daring," cried rob, delighted.

"most fittingly," commented mr. baldwin. "and now, 'bobs bahadur,' i'm going to wire your mother not to act until she hears from me, and add that you're all right; she must be troubled about you. this warrants our holding off on this first offer." and mr. baldwin held up his friend's note in one hand, while with the other he drew a telegraph-blank toward him.

the telegram dispatched, rob reached for her hat, and began to adjust it as she vainly tried to smooth her turbulent locks.

"what shall i do? go back to fayre [222]to-night, or will you tell me which hotel to go to—am i needed here longer?" she asked, thrusting a hatpin through her braid.

"you are needed here, roberta," said mr. baldwin. "my intention is to see certain people who may be interested in your father's invention, and if you really do understand it and can describe it, we can interest them sufficiently to get them to see the models. can you do this?"

"patergrey said one day that i could exhibit his invention as well as he could," said rob, quietly. "that was with the models; describing it might be harder."

"if you can do one, you can do the other sufficiently well to give an idea of what there is to be seen," smiled mr. baldwin. "as to a hotel, my little girl, i strongly recommend one kept by a host called baldwin. it is up in seventy-third street, and is fairly comfortable, and quite commodious enough for one person of sixteen. in it there is a landlady who loves such guests, and a girl—the daughter of the landlord and landlady—called hester baldwin, who is not rich in sisters as you are—has none, in fact, and who will welcome you as a traveller in the desert welcomes water. so i think there is no doubt that the baldwin inn is the best place for you, my[223] dear; but of one thing i am sure—sylvester grey's little girl cannot go anywhere else, so make the best of it."

"how good you are, mr. baldwin!" cried rob, gratefully. "how can i ever thank you?"

"by telling my girl all you have told me, and as much more as you can remember, of the little grey house, my dear," replied mr. baldwin, helping rob into her coat.

"there are qualities in that little house and its occupants sadly out of fashion, and i'd like hester to taste their flavor. she's a good girl, is hester; she'll see their beauty. and now, come, my dear rob, you brave little casabianca; i'm going to take you home to rest and have a good time. but first i'm going to take you to lunch. upon my word, we've neither of us tasted food! why, rob, you must be starving! and see how interested i have been! that's the first time i've forgotten my lunch-hour since i don't know when—probably not since my base-ball days!"