CHAPTER XVI.
THE CROWNING ACT OF HEROISM.
One second more and her act would have been fatal.
Marion caught the child and sprang back like a flash. The next instant, with a crash that echoed block after block, the mammoth box of iron struck the walk where the child had stood and actually telescoped its way straight through the pavement into the cellar.
There was not a sound for the space of a second, then the frightened bystanders recovered their voices and a cheer went up that was swelled from every direction. A policeman was just in time to catch the child’s mother as she fainted, and at that moment a handsome carriage drove up, with the coachman pale with apprehension.
“You had better go home with her, miss, for she has fainted,” said the officer. “I’ll have to send for an ambulance if there is no one to go with her.”
“She has only fainted,” said Marion, calmly, “but I’ll go home with her with pleasure, if I can be of any assistance.”
Some one had brought a glass of water, and the lady was rapidly reviving.
“Do come home with me, dear,” she said, turning to Marion.
The officer assisted them into the carriage, and again the crowd swung their hats and cheered the brave girl to the echo. Two hours later Marion burst into the little furnished room where Dollie sat, waving a check for a thousand dollars in her hand, and with tears of joy glistening on her dark lashes.
“Oh, Dollie! Dollie!” she cried, hysterically, “I saved a rich woman’s child from getting killed, and she has made me a present of a thousand dollars!”
Dollie stared at her in absolute amazement, and at that very moment in rushed Miss Allyn.
“Oh, you darling girl! You have been and made a heroine of yourself again!” she cried, happily. “And to think I had only been in town an hour when I saw you do that heroic deed and got another ‘exclusive’ in the evening paper!”
The girls were both hugging and kissing her, but she went on talking rapidly.
“Poor mother left me a little money, girls, enough to pay my bills, if I get out of work, but I’m back on my paper in the same old job, and I’ve got the promise of a position for Dollie.”
“You thought of us the very first thing, of course,” said Marion, laughing. “It wouldn’t be you if you were not doing us a kindness.”
“Oh, come off!” cried Miss Allyn, in her characteristic slang. “Why, Marion, you’re a treasure! I’m constantly making money out of you! Why, I couldn’t begin to tell how much I have made out of your exploits!”
There was a rap on the door and Bert Jackson came in.
“Hurrah! I’ve heard all about it!” he cried, delightedly. “It’s all in the paper, and they say you are a daisy! I do hope that woman rewarded you, Marion.”
“She wrote me up,” said Marion, as she introduced him to Miss Allyn, “and the rich woman gave me a thousand dollars.”
Bert did a “two-step” around the room to show his appreciation.
“Now, what the mischief will you do with so much money, Marion?” he asked, jokingly.
“Pay off the mortgage on father’s farm for the first thing,” was the girl’s prompt reply, “and then there’ll be five hundred left for Miss Allyn and Dollie and me, and I guess we’ll find a way to spend it.”
“You must buy some city clothes,” said Bert, with unusual gravity. “I’m just dying to see how you and Dollie will look in swell togs. You are too deucedly pretty to go around looking so dowdy!”
There was a general shout at Bert’s honest words, but through it all Miss Allyn was gazing at Marion admiringly.
“Do you know what I think?” she asked, rather curtly. “Well, I’ll tell you, Miss Marion Marlowe, and you can thank me or not. I think that paying off your father’s mortgage is your crowning act of heroism!”
Just then a messenger boy knocked on the door and handed in a letter.
“It is from Ralph,” said Dollie, blushing as she looked it over. “He has been forgiven freely by his aunt, and is coming over to see me this evening.”
“And I have a letter from Mr. Ray,” said Marion, drawing one from her pocket. “He says that they are all growing steadily ‘fat and happy,’ and that his sister Ada has a brand new lover, who isn’t such a cad as the other fellow.”
“Is that all he says?” asked Miss Allyn, slyly.
Marion’s sweet face crimsoned to the roots of her hair.
“I’ll not tell you,” she said, laughing, “for I know your tricks. You’d trot right down town and put it in the paper.”
And in this pleasant manner a long, dreary struggle ended. Marion Marlowe had proved herself a heroine in more ways than one, and now, with her friends about her, and a brighter outlook before her, the courageous girl was enjoying a little respite.
THE END.
No. 3 of My Queen will be entitled “Marion Marlowe’s True Heart; or, How a Daughter Forgave.” If you are pleased with Marion and her adventures, the publishers trust you will continue to read her career from week to week.