Somebody must help her to find a railroad station and a train. That
gradually became clear to her. But when she realised that, a young man
sauntered up beside her and looked at her so intently that her
calmness gave way and she turned her head sharply to conceal the
starting tears.
"Hello, girlie," he said. "Got anythin' on tonight?"
With head averted, she stood there, rigid, dumb, her tear-drenched
eyes fixed on the park; and after one or two jocose observations the
young man became discouraged and went away. But he had thrust the fear
of strangers deep into her heart; and now she dared not ask any man
for information. However, when two young women passed she found
sufficient courage to accost them, asking the direction of the
railroad station from which trains departed for Gayfield.
The women, who were young and brightly coloured in plumage, displayed
a sympathetic interest at once.
"Gayfield?" repeated the blonder of the two. "Gee, dearie, I never
heard of that place."
"Is it on Long Island?" inquired the other.
"No. It is in Mohawk County."
"That's a new one, too. Mohawk County? Never heard of it; did you,
Lil?"
"Search me!"
"Is it up-state, dearie?" asked the other. "You better go over to
Madison Avenue and take a car to the Grand Central----"
"Wait," interrupted her friend; "she better take a taxi----"
"Nix on a taxi you pick up on Sixth Avenue!" And to Rue, curiously
sympathetic: "Say, you've got friends here, haven't you, little one?"
"No."
"What! You don't know anyone in New York!"
Rue looked at her dumbly; then, of a sudden, she remembered Neeland.
"Yes," she said, "I know one person."
"Where does your friend live?"
In her reticule was the paper on which he had written the address of
the Art Students' League, and, as an afterthought, his own address.
Rue lifted the blue silk bag, opened it, took out her purse and found
the paper.
"One Hundred and Six, West Fifty-fifth Street," she read; "Studio No.
10."
"Why, that isn't far!" said the blonder of the two. "We are going that
way. We'll take you there."
"I don't know--I don't know him very well----"
"Is it a man?"
"Yes. He comes from my town, Gayfield."
"Oh! I guess that's all right," said the other woman, laughing. "You
got to be leery of these men, little one. Come on; we'll show you."
It was only four blocks; Ruhannah presently found herself on the steps
of a house from which dangled a sign, "Studios and Bachelor
Apartments to Let."
"What's his name?" said the woman addressed as Lil.
"Mr. Neeland."
By the light of the vestibule lantern they inspected the letter boxes,
found Neeland's name, and pushed the electric button.