“It was about a job I didn't get,” replied Rose, trying to laugh.
“So you're looking for a job. Heard you'd been fired by old Hill. Gail told me. I had her out last night in my new car.”
“I could go back to school. Miss Hill sent for me.... Was Bessy with you and Gail?”
“No. Gail and I were alone. We had a dandy time.... Rose, will you meet me some night and take a ride? It'll be fine and cool.”
“Thank you, Mr. Swann. It's very kind of you to ask me.”
“Well, will you go?” he queried, impatiently.
“No,” she replied, simply.
“Why not?”
“I don't want to.”
“Well, that's plain enough,” he said, changing his tone. “Say, Rose, you're in Clark's store, aren't you?”
“I was. But I lost the place.”
“How's that?”
“I couldn't stand on my feet all day. I fainted. Then he fired me.”
“So you're hunting for another job?” inquired Swann, thoughtfully.
“Yes.”
“Sorry. It's too bad a sweet kid like you has to work. You're not strong, Rose.... Well, I'll turn off at this corner. You won't meet me to-night?”
“No, thanks.”
Swann pulled a gold case from his pocket, and extracting a cigarette, tilted it in his lips as he struck a match. His face wore a careless smile Rose did not like. He was amiable, but he seemed so sure, so satisfied, almost as if he believed she would change her mind.
“Rose, you're turning me down cold, then?”
“Take it any way you like, Mr. Swann,” she replied. “Good day.”
Rose forgot him almost the instant her back was turned. He had only annoyed her. And she had her stepfather to face, with news of her discharge from the store. Her fears were verified; he treated her brutally. Next day Rose went to work in a laundry.
And then, very soon it seemed, her school days, the merry times with the boys, and Bessy—all were far back in the past. She did not meet any one who knew her, nor hear from any one. They had forgotten her. At night, after coming home from the laundry and doing the housework, she was so tired that she was glad to crawl into bed.
But one night a boy brought her a note. It was from Dick Swann. He asked her to go to Mendleson's Hall to see the moving-pictures. She could meet him uptown at the entrance. Rose told the boy to tell Swann she would not come.
This invitation made her thoughtful. If Swann had been ashamed to be seen with her he would not have invited her to go there. Mendleson's was a nice place; all the nice people of Middleville went there. Rose found herself thinking of the lights, the music, the well-dressed crowd, and then the pictures. She loved moving-pictures, especially those with swift horses and cowboys and a girl who could ride. All at once a wave of the old thrilling excitement rushed over her. Almost she regretted having sent back a refusal. But she would not go with Swann. And it was not because she knew what kind of a young man he was—what he wanted. Rose refused from dislike, not scruples.
Then came a Saturday night which seemed a climax of her troubles. She was told not to come back to work until further notice, and that was as bad as being discharged. How could she tell her stepfather? Of late he had been hard with her. She dared not tell him. The money she earned was little enough, but during his idleness it had served to keep them.
Rose had scarcely gone a block when she encountered Dick Swann. He stopped her—turned to walk with her. It was a melancholy gift of Rose's that she could tell when men were even in the slightest under the influence of drink. Swann was not careless now or indifferent. He seemed excited and gay.
“Rose, you're just the girl I'm looking for,” he said. “I really was going to your home. Got that job yet?”
“No,” she replied.
“I've got one for you. It's at the Telephone Exchange. They need an operator. My dad owns the telephone company. I've got a pull. I'll get you the place. You can learn it easy. Nice job—short hours—you sit down all the time—good pay. What do you say, Rose?”
“I—I don't know—what to say,” she faltered. “Thanks for thinking of me.”
“I've had you in mind for a month. Rose, you take this job. Take it whether you've any use for me or not. I'm not rotten enough to put this in your way just to make you under obligations to me.”
“I'll think about it. I—I do need a place. My father's out of work. And he's—he's not easy to get along with.”
“I tell you what, Rose. You meet me to-night. We'll take a spin in my car. It'll be fine down the river road. Then we can talk it over. Will you?”
Rose looked at him, and thought how strange it was that she did not like him any better, now when she ought to.
“Why have you tried to—to rush me?” she asked.
