Canada -- Fiction; Frontier and pioneer life -- Ontario -- Fiction
When she finally went out she carried a cheap little weapon worth
perhaps four dollars, and a box of cartridges, for which she paid him
ten of the dollars he had handed out to her. It was with a sense of
inexpressible relief that she found herself again on the avenue, in
spite of the drizzle that was coming down. The air seemed purer after
her stay in the uninviting place. Its atmosphere as well as the old
man's ways had made her feel as if she had been engaged in a very
illicit transaction. She met a policeman who was swinging his club,
and the man gave her an instant of carking fear. But he paid not the
slightest heed to her and she went on, breathing more freely. It was
as if the great dark pall of clouds hanging over the city was being
torn asunder. At any rate the world seemed to be a little brighter.
She went home and deposited her purchase, going out again at once. She
stopped at a telegraph office where the clerk had to consult a large
book before he discovered that messages could be accepted for Carcajou
in the Province of Ontario, and wrote out the few words announcing her
coming. After this she went into other shops, carefully consulting a
small list she had made out. Among other things she bought a pair of
stout boots and a heavy sweater. With these and a very few articles of
underwear, since she could spare so little, she returned to the Grand
Central and purchased the needed ticket, a long thing with many
sections to be gradually torn off on the journey. Berths on sleepers,
she decided, were beyond her means. Cars were warm, as a rule, and as
long as she wasn't frozen and starving she could endure anything. Not
far from the house she lived in there was an express office where a
man agreed to come for her trunk, in a couple of hours.
Then she climbed up to Mrs. MacRae's.
"I'm going to leave you," announced the girl. "I--I have found
something out of town. Of course I'll pay for the whole week."
The woman expressed her regret, which was genuine. Her lodger had
never been troublesome and the small rent she paid helped out a very
poor income mostly derived from washing and scrubbing.
"I hope it's a good job ye've found, child," she said. "D'ye know for
sure what kind o' place ye're goin' to? Are you certain it's all
right?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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