Part 19 (1/2)

”Some girl!” said a man beside me.

”Who's she?” exclaimed somebody else.

Then abruptly the band that she immediately preceded broke into thundering music, and drowned everything but the sight of her.

But oh, such a sight! She was in her black habit and wore the little tri-cornered hat that so became her. She has always ridden horseback.

Confidently, easily she sat in her saddle, with one white-gloved hand holding the reins, and the other one the pole of the flag, which waved above her head. In Ruth's eyes there was an expression that was ardent.

Neither to left nor right did she look. She seemed oblivious of her surroundings. Straight ahead she gazed; straight ahead she rode; unafraid, eager, hopeful; the flag her only staff. She epitomized for me the hundreds and hundreds of girls that were following after. Where would they all come out? Where, _where_ would Ruth come out? She had sought liberty. Well, she had it. Where was it taking her? With a choking throat I watched my sister's stars and stripes vanish up Fifth Avenue. I thought it would satisfy me to see Ruth well and happy--for she looked well, she looked happy--but it didn't satisfy me.

I was hungry for more of her.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”Straight ahead she gazed; straight ahead she rode; unafraid, eager, hopeful; the flag her only staff”--_Page 170_]

None of us, Will, Robert or I, had spoken as she rode by. It had been too impressive. I had not looked at Robert. I had observed only his hand as it grasped his coat sleeve as he stood with folded arms. One hand, I thought, had tightened its grasp a little. We all stood perfectly speechless for at least three minutes after Ruth went by. Finally it was Robert who spoke.

”Have you had enough?” he asked of me, leaning down.

”Have you?” I inquired.

”Yes, I have. Let's go. Come on, Will, let's get out,” he said. There was a note of impatience in his voice. We wormed our way back to the entrance of a shop.

”What's the rush?” said Will.

Robert replied. I could see his emotion now. ”It's this. I'll tell you.

I'm going to clear right out of this crowd and look that girl up. You've got that address in Madison Avenue, Lucy. I'm going to look her up----”

”But, Bob,” I remonstrated. ”She doesn't live there, and she doesn't want to be looked up. She has asked me not to--and besides----”

”I can't help that--I shall be doing the looking up. I'll take the blame,” he rather snapped at me.

”Now, look here, Bob, old man,” said Will, and he put a hand on one of Robert's shoulders. ”What's the good in it _now_? Don't you see she'll be hotter than ever on this thing just now? Wait till she cools off a bit. That's the idea!”

”Oh, it isn't to dissuade her. I don't care about that. It's simply to find out if she's all right. She may need help of some kind or other.

She's a proud girl. Good heavens, she isn't going to send for any one. I don't know what we've been thinking of--a whole year down in this place, and no knowledge of what kind of a life she's had to live. That isn't right--no. Lucy, if you'll be kind enough to give me that address, I'll be off.”

”I don't believe you can trace her through that.”

”I'll see to that end of it.” He was really almost sharp with me.

”What do you think, Will?” I inquired.

”Oh, give it to him, give it to him, my dear.”

And so I did at last.

Will and I went to the theater that night, and supper afterward. It was after midnight when we strolled into the hotel. Robert Jennings was sitting in one of the big chairs in the corridor with a paper up before his face. Will had gone to the desk to get our key, and I went up and spoke to Bob.

”Well, h.e.l.lo!” I blurted out cheerfully. ”What success? Did you see her?”

He stood up, and I saw his face then.