“No, Dollie, they must employ me just as I am,” she said decidedly, “and, besides, dear, I should hate to wear the dress again. It would remind me of the first night I spent in New York when that villain Emile Vorse sent me to the wrong address and I was only saved from a monster by that dear, dear woman.” “What became of Vorse?” asked Dollie, absently. “He eluded the police and made his escape,” said Marion, sadly. “It’s a pity, for he was an awful creature. But the other, Miss Ray’s deceiver, is safely in jail. He was intoxicated and unconscious in his apartments when the detectives found him.” “Poor Miss Ray,” sighed Dollie, “her lot is worse, by far, than mine. That man must have been a fiend, just like Mr. Lawson.” “Hush! Don’t speak that name. You know we promised, Dollie. Neither the name Carlos Lawson, nor his alias, Professor Dabroski, must rest on our lips any oftener than is necessary. But Dollie, now I remember it, Bert Jackson is coming to see us. I met him yesterday on Broadway, and told him where we were. You must write him at once, dear, and tell him our new address.” “Poor Bert, he has had a hard row, too,” sighed Dollie, “but I guess he’s safe now, for he’s secured a fairly good position in that office. Oh, I wish every boy at the Poor Farm could be as lucky.” “So do I,” said Marion, her eyes filling with tears. “Those poor boys! I am almost home-sick, Dollie, whenever I think of them.” “I would like to go home, too,” said Dollie, sadly. “I’d like to see mother, and Samantha, and the chickens, but, oh, I would dread to see father or Silas Johnson.” “Well we won’t go back to the country at present,” said Marion, firmly, “not until we are convinced that there is no place for us in the city.” “I shall go out this afternoon,” called Dollie, as Marion tripped down the stairs. “I saw an advertisement in the paper that I am going to answer.” “Be careful, Dollie,” was her sister’s reply, “and don’t forget to wear a veil, dear. That pretty face of yours is a great temptation to wicked men.” Dollie went back into their room just as Miss Allyn came through the hall. “There’ll be a typewriter here for you to-day,” she said glibly. “I ordered it sent. I want you to learn to operate it.” “Oh, thank you,” said Dollie, clapping her hands. “I’ve heard of them so often. I shall be delighted to see one.” “Well, I’ll teach you to use it in off hours,” said Miss Allyn, kindly. “There’s no harm in learning, and it may come in handy.” She was in a hurry to go out to fill an engagement for her paper, so Dollie did not detain her, but busied herself in tidying up the room, and then wrote the letter to Bert Jackson. When the letter was ready, she put on her hat and gloves and started out to look for work, carrying the advertisement that she had clipped from the paper in order not to forget the address given.