CHAPTER XIII.

With a note of introduction to the superintendent clutched tightly in her hand, Ida May reached New York City. She took barely time to swallow a cup of coffee ere she hurried to the number indicated. Her heart sunk within her as she looked up at the immense building; but with a courage which should have met with a better reward, she took the elevator, and soon found herself on the eighth floor, where the superintendent's office was situated.

"He is not in," an attendant told her. "He left the city two days ago, and is not expected to return for a fortnight."

Tears that she could not control sprung into Ida May's dark eyes.

"Oh, what shall I do?" cried the girl; "I want to see him so much!"

The attendant was moved to pity by her great distress.

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"If you are looking for a position, or anything of that kind, perhaps I could suggest something."

"Oh, yes, that is it, sir," exclaimed Ida May, looking up through her tears—"that is my errand. I want to secure a position."

"Then it is the manager, instead of the superintendent, you will have to apply to. I think he is in his office. Step this way, please."

He threw open a door to the right, and Ida May followed him into a large room, in which were dozens of young girls bending over tables.

The deafening click! click! click! of the telegraph instruments drowned every sound.

Some girls never raised their heads, as Ida May, following the attendant, passed down the long aisle. Others, however, glanced at her, at first casually, which deepened instantly into a gaze of curiosity and intense interest, for they had never beheld a creature with such superb beauty. Their hearts beat with envy.

"The manager will be sure to engage her," they whispered. "Her pretty face will be sure to be a passport to favor. There used to be a time when it was 'How much do you know about the business?' but now it is 'What kind of a face have you? If it's a pretty and dashing one, I'll engage you.' An old or a homely girl doesn't stand any show whatever nowadays."

All unconscious of these remarks, Ida May passed on. The attendant threw open another door at the end of a large room, and she found herself in a luxuriously furnished office. A young and exceedingly handsome man sat at a desk writing. He glanced up[56] angrily at the sound of footsteps, and was about to make a sharp remark to the man, when he caught sight of the beautiful young creature he was ushering into his presence.

"Ah, sit down," he said, blandly; "I will attend to you in one moment."

The attendant had scarcely closed the door behind him ere the manager—for such he proved to be—turned quickly about and faced the young girl.

"What can I do for you?" he said in his blandest voice. He had taken in at first glance the wondrous beauty of the young girl. It was certainly the most exquisite face he had ever beheld, and a strange gleam leaped into his eyes. He told himself that, from her appearance, she had certainly come in search of a position. Ida May looked up into the dark, handsome face. Instinctively she shrunk from him, but could not tell why. Very timidly she stated her errand, the color on her face deepening, as she could not help but notice the ardent glance of admiration he bent upon her, and there was something in the bold glance of his eyes that made her feel extremely uncomfortable.

In a falteringly voice Ida stated her errand, and what experience she had had in her little village home. To her great delight and surprise, he answered quickly:

"I think I will be able to make a place for you. It would be a pity to send away such a pretty girl as you are."

Ida May drew back in alarm. She did not like the remark, nor the look which accompanied it; but she dared not make an indignant reply.

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"Where are you stopping?" he asked in the next breath.

"I have just reached the city, sir," she responded. "I came in search of a position even before I found a place to stop."

"It is well you did so," he responded quickly. "I know of a place that I think will suit you. The lady has no other boarders. You would be company for her. I would make this observation here and now: the girls we have here are a talkative set. Pay no attention to their remarks."

He wrote an address on a slip of paper, and handed it to the girl.

"I am very grateful, sir, for the interest you have taken in me, a poor girl," she said, tremulously. "Shall I report to-day for work, sir?" she asked. "I should like to commence as soon as possible."

"To-morrow will do," he answered.

With a heart full of thanks, she left the office.

Frank Garrick, the manager, looked after her with a smile that was not pleasant to see.

"I have run across many a little beauty in my time," he muttered, gazing after her, "but surely never such an exquisite little beauty as this one."

The girls looked at one another, nodding grimly, when Ida May presented herself for duty the next day.

"Didn't I tell you how it would be?" sneered one of the girls. "Our handsome manager, Mr. Garrick, was captivated by the girl's beauty, as I knew he would be, and engaged her, although he refused to take on, only the day before, three girls whom I knew to be actually starving."

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There was one girl who looked at Ida May with darkening eyes.

She bent over her task; but though the hours passed, the terrible look never left her face.

"Nannie is jealous," more than one girl whispered to her neighbor. "You see, she's head over heels in love with our manager. If he so much as looks at any other girl that passes along, she sulks for a week. What fun it would be to make her jealous. Oh, let's try, girls! Let's put up a job on her. It would be such fun!"

"Not for the new-comer!" laughed another girl.

"Nannie would make it pretty hot for her here."

Little dreaming of the tempest they were stirring up, the girls thoughtlessly planned their little joke. Their shouts of laughter would have been turned into tears of pity could they have beheld the harvest of woe that was to spring from it.

Nannie Rogers noticed that the beautiful new-comer was assigned to an instrument at a table almost directly opposite the private office. This inflamed the jealously of Nannie Rogers.

She noted how he watched her from the window of his office all the next day.

More than one girl called Nannie Rogers' attention to this at noon-hour.

"You will have to look to your laurels, Nan," more than one declared, banteringly. "You will find this Ida May a rival, I fear."

"Any girl had better be dead than attempt to be a rival of mine," she answered.

There came a time when the girls remembered that remark all too forcibly.

Ida May bent over her task, paying little attention[59] to anything around her. She was trying to forget her double sorrow, all that she had gone through, and the death of her poor mother that had followed.