Over Paradise Ridge: A RomanceDaviess, Maria Thompson
General
Over Paradise Ridge: A Romance
Daviess, Maria Thompson
Harpeth Valley (Tenn.) -- Fiction; Love stories; Triangles (Interpersonal relations) -- Fiction; Young women -- Fiction
Horrible thoughts of somebody's having kidnapped Sam flashed across my
brain as I threw on my clothes. How had he happened to come to New York,
anyway, and then disappear right after the play? What kind of trouble
could he be in, and how could I help? I looked in my purse and found
only ten dollars, but I felt the roll that I always carry in my stocking
and it still felt a respectable size. I never count money when I am
spending it, because you don't enjoy it so much; and I had been away
from home three weeks. Still, if I had to bribe or buy Sam out of
anything, I could get more some place. I must hurry to do as he told me,
and then he would direct me how to rescue him.
In less time than it would take most girls, as soggy with sleep as I
was, to get dressed and down to a taxi, I was on my way to Sam. I forgot
to get the maid to go with me; and, anyway, what was the use, with a
nice young white man like that taxi-car driver? He said, looking at me
so pleasantly that I was sure he didn't really mean anything, "It's
early, isn't it, miss?"
I was so hustled and so dazed, and had such trouble in making the little
new kind of hook-buttons on my gloves stay fastened, that before I knew
it we drew up at a queer kind of old warehouse down in a part of New
York where I had never been, with a line of the ocean or the bay or the
river or the harbor, I couldn't tell which, just beyond. Then I was
scared, for instead of Sam being in danger, I felt that maybe I was
being kidnapped. I hesitated at the curbing as I got out of the taxi.
"Through that warehouse and to your left you'll find the gentleman. Good
morning, miss," said the nice taxi-man as he touched his cap and drove
off and left me to my fate. If I had had only my own fate to consider I
would have taken to my good strong legs and fled, but Sam was also
concerned. At the thought of his needing me my courage came back, and I
went on into the long shed where queer dirty boxes and bales and barrels
and things were piled. At last I came to a turn and stepped into a low
room that was almost at the water's edge. It was still very early
morning, and a mist from the sea made things dim, but in a crowd of
queer people and bundles and voices I saw Sam standing and looking
perfectly helpless, while that Commissioner of Agriculture stood over by
the window, evidently perfectly furious and growling out expletives to
the saddest crowd of pitiful people I had ever seen.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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