THE CHRISTMAS BRIDE Read Online Free Page B

her grasp. Then he took it back to the light once more and opened it. Perhaps it might give some clue to her family.
    But it proved to be absolutely empty save for a thin letter addressed to Miss Margaret McLaren, 1546 Rodman Street, that city. There wasn’t even a penny in the little middle purse that obviously was meant for change. His heart went out with pity toward the poor child, for he felt absolutely certain that this pocketbook belonged to the girl he had picked up in the park.
    He studied the envelope carefully. Where would Rodman Street be? Wasn’t there such a street down behind the schoolhouse when he was a boy? He could go and see. Perhaps it was her home. Perhaps her father and mother were waiting anxiously. It was late. He looked at his watch—almost eleven o’clock. Yet if they were worried, they would be only too glad to be disturbed.
    He looked at the letter again uncertainly. It was postmarked Vermont, but the town was so blurred it was unreadable. Ought he perhaps to know what was in that letter? Well, not yet anyway. If he could find her people, nothing else was his affair.
    So he started out to find Rodman Street and at last discovered the address on one of a row of old brownstone-front houses.
    There were lights in the second story, and a dim light coming from the transom over the front door, but it was a long time before anybody came, and then the door was opened but a few inches over a sturdy door chain.
    “Who’s there?” asked a sharp elderly voice.
    “Does Miss Margaret McLaren live here?” asked Greg.
    “No. She certainly doesn’t. Not anymore!” said the sharp voice. “I told her this morning that she needn’t come back tonight whining around for me to let her in. She can’t step her foot inside this house again, not till she pays me the three weeks’ rent she owes me. And if it’s her suitcase you’ve come for, you can’t have it till the room rent’s paid. I told her that, too, this morning. I can’t live on air, and I’ve waited for my money just as long as I can wait. I’ve got another party for her room, and if she doesn’t pay up, they’ll move in in the morning.”
    Greg was still for a minute considering.
    “I didn’t come for her suitcase,” he said. “I was just trying to look up some of her friends, but it doesn’t sound as if you were one. I had thought it might interest you to know that she had an accident this afternoon and she’s in the hospital unconscious now. She won’t need your room tonight, and perhaps not for a good many nights. I don’t know that she ever will.”
    There was silence behind the chained door for an instant, and then the sharp voice struck again.
    “Accident! Humph! Well they needn’t try to bring her here. I don’t intend to take care of any sick people. I got enough to do to look after my roomers. I’m sick and old. All I’ve got ta say is she deserves what she gets. Anybody that ud give up a perfectly good position just because she couldn’t stomach the man that employs her deserves to get down and out. These aren’t any times to be so squeamish about jobs. She had no business to leave her perfectly good place. He paid her, didn’t he? What I wantta know is what she did with all her money. She didn’t buy cloes, an’ there ain’t scarcely a thing worth holding for my rent. What’d you come here for anyway? Because you aren’t likely to get it.”
    “No, so I see,” said Greg indignantly. “Well, suppose I happened to come to pay her rent?”
    The woman brought her face closer to the opening.
    “Who are you anyway?” she hissed. “I never saw you with her. Why should you pay her rent?”
    “I’m only a friend, and you never did see me with her, but I might pay her rent just to save her having to listen to you when she is able to come back again. How much is her rent anyway?”
    “It’s fifteen dollars!” said the woman belligerently, “and I won’t come down a cent for cash either!”
    “Is that