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A LIST OF THE ELSIE BOOKS AND OTHER POPULAR BOOKS
MARTHA FINLEY
ELSIE AND THE RAYMONDS
MARTHA FINLEY
NEW YORK DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY PUBLISHERS
ELSIE AND THE RAYMONDS.
"Excuse me, Miss, but do you know of any lady who wants a seamstress?" asked a timid, hesitating voice.
Lulu Raymond was the person addressed. She and Max had just alighted from the Woodburn family carriage--having been given permission to do a little shopping together--and she had paused upon the pavement for a moment to look after it as it rolled away down the street with her father, who had some business matters to attend to in the city that afternoon, and had appointed a time and place for picking the children up again to carry them home.
Tastefully attired, rosy, and bright with health and happiness, Lulu's appearance was in strange contrast to that of the shabbily dressed girl, with pale, pinched features that wore an expression of patient suffering, who stood by her side.
"Were you speaking to me?" Lulu asked, turning quickly at the sound of the voice, and regarding the shrinking figure with pitying eyes.
"Yes, Miss, if you'll excuse the liberty. I thought you looked kind, and that maybe your mother might want some one to do plain sewing."
"I hardly think she does, but I'll ask her when I go home," replied Lulu. "Are you the person who wants the work?"
"Yes, Miss; and I'd try to give satisfaction. I've been brought up to the use of my needle, and the sewing machine too. And--and"--in a choking voice--"I need work badly; mother's sick, and we've only what I can earn to depend on for food and clothes, and doctor, and medicine, and to pay the rent."
"Oh, how dreadful!" cried Lulu, hastily taking out her purse.
"You are very kind, Miss; but I'm not asking charity," the girl said, shrinking back, blushing and shamefaced.
"Of course not, you don't look like a beggar," returned Lulu with warmth. "But I'd be glad to help you in some suitable way. Where do you live?"
At this instant Max, whose attention had been drawn for a moment to some article in the show-window of a store near at hand, joined his sister, and with her listened to the girl's reply.
"Just down that alley yonder, Number five," she said. "It's but a poor place we have; a little bare attic room, but--but we try to be content with it, because it's the best we can do."
"What is it she wants?" Max asked, in a low aside to Lulu.
"Sewing. I'm going to ask Mamma Vi and Grandma Elsie if they can find some for her. But we'll have to know where she can be found. Shall we go with her to her home?"
"No; papa would not approve, I think. But I'll write down the address, and I'm sure papa will see that they're relieved, if they need help."
Turning to the girl again, as he took notebook and pencil from his pocket, "What is the name of the alley?" he asked.
"Rose," she answered, adding, with a melancholy smile, "though there's nothing rosy about it except the name; it's narrow and dirty, and the people are poor, many of them beggars, drunken, and quarrelsome."
"How dreadful to have to live in such a place!" exclaimed Lulu, looking compassionately at the speaker.
"Rose Alley," murmured Max, jotting it down in his book, "just out of State Street. What number?"
"Number five, sir; and it's between Fourth and Fifth."
"Oh, yes; I'll put that down, too, and I'm sure the place can be found without any difficulty. But what is your name? We will need to know whom to inquire for."
"Susan Allen, sir."
The girl was turning away, but Lulu stopped her.
"Wait a moment. You said your mother was sick, and I'd like to send her something good to eat. I dare say she needs delicacies to tempt her appetite. Come with me to that fruit-stand on the corner," hurrying toward it as she spoke, the girl following at a respectful distance.
"That was a good and kind thought, Lu," Max remarked, stepping close to his sister's side as she paused before the fruit-stand, eagerly scanning its tempting display of fruits and confections.
"You don't doubt papa's approval of this?" she returned interrogatively, giving him an arch look and smile.
"No; not a bit of it; he always likes to see us generous and ready to relieve distress. I must have a share in the good work."
"Then they'll have all the more, for I shan't give any less because you're going to give, too. Oh, what delicious looking strawberries!"
"And every bit as good as they look, Miss," said the keeper of the stand.
"What's the price?"
"Dollar a box, Miss. They always come high the first o' the season, you know; they were a dollar-ten only yesterday."
"Do you think your sick mother would enjoy them?" Lulu asked, turning to Susan, who was looking aghast at the price named.
"Oh, yes, indeed, Miss; but--but it's too much for you to give; we have hardly so much as that to spend on a week's victuals."
"Then I'm sure you ought to have a few luxuries for once," said Lulu. "I'll take a box for her," addressing the man, and taking out her purse as she spoke.
"A dozen of those oranges, too, a pound of your nicest crackers, and one of sugar to eat with the berries," said Max, producing his porte-monnaie.
They saw the articles put up, paid for them, put them into Susan's hands, and hurried on their way, followed by her grateful looks.
In trembling, tearful tones she had tried to thank them, but they would not stay to listen.
"How glad she was," said Lulu. "And no wonder, for she looks half starved. And, O Max, just think, if we hadn't a father to take care of and provide for us we might be as poor and distressed as she is!"
"That's so," returned Max; "we've hardly a thing worth having that hasn't come to us through my father."
"Yes, our father; but he was mine before he was yours," laughed her brother. "Well, here we are at Blake's, where you have an errand; at least, so you said, I think."
They passed into the store, finding so many customers there that all the clerks were engaged; and while waiting till some one could attend to their wants, they amused themselves in scrutinizing the contents of shelves, counters, and show-cases. Some picture-frames, brackets, and other articles of carved wood attracted their attention.
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