CHAPTER VII. BOBS SEEKS A PROFESSION
There was no anxiety in the heart of Roberta. In her short walking suitof blue tweed, with a jaunty hat atop of her waving brown hair, she waswalking a brisk pace down Third Avenue. Even at that early hour foreignwomen with shawls over their heads and baskets on their arms were goingto market. It was a new experience to Roberta to be elbowed aside asthough she were not a descendant of a long line of aristocraticVandergrifts. The fact that she was among them, made her one of them, wasprobably their reasoning, if, indeed, they noticed her at all, which shedoubted. Gwen would have drawn her skirts close, fearing contamination,but not so Bobs. She reveled in the new experience, feeling almost asthough she were abroad in Bohemia, Hungary or even Italy, for thedominant nationality of the crowd changed noticeably before she had gonemany blocks. How wonderfully beautiful were some of the young Italianmatrons, Bobs thought; their dark eyes shaded with long lashes, theirnatural grace but little concealed by bright-colored shawls.
At one corner where the traffic held her up, the girl turned and lookedat the store nearest, her attention being attracted by a spray of lilacsthat stood within among piles of dusty old books. It seemed strange tosee that fragrant bit of springtime in a gloomy second-hand shop so farfrom the country where it might have blossomed. As Bobs gazed into theshop, she was suddenly conscious of a movement within, and then, out ofthe shadows, she saw forms emerging. An old man with a long flowing beardand the tight black skull cap so often worn by elderly men of the EastSide was pushing a wheeled chair in which reclined a frail old woman,evidently his wife. In her face there was an expression of sufferingpatiently borne which touched the heart of the young girl.
The chair was placed close to the window that the invalid might look outat the street if she wished and watch the panorama passing by.
Instantly Bobs knew the meaning of the lilac, or thought that she did,and, also, she at once decided that she wished to purchase a book, andshe groped about in her memory trying to recall a title for which shemight inquire. A detective story, of course, that was what she wanted.Since it was to be her chosen profession, she could not read too many ofthem.
The old man had disappeared by this time, but when Bobs entered the dingyshop the woman smiled up at her, and, to Roberta's surprise, she heardherself saying, "Oh, may I have just one little sniff of your lilac? Iadore them, don't you?"
The woman in the chair nodded, and her reply was in broken English, whichcharmed her listener. She said that her "good man" bought her a "blossomby the flower shop" every day, though she did tell him he shouldn't, sheknowing that to do it he had to go without himself, but it's the only"bit of brightness he can be giving me," my good man says.
Then she was silent, for from a little dark room at the back of the shopthe old man, bent with years, shuffled forward. Looking at him, Robertaknew at once why he bought flowers and went without to do it, for therewas infinite tenderness in the eyes that turned first of all to theoccupant of the wheeled chair.
Then he inquired what the customer might wish. Roberta knew that she hada very small sum in her pocket and that as yet she had not obtained work,but buy something she surely must, so she asked for detective stories.
The old man led her to a musty, dusty shelf and there she selectedseveral titles, paid the small sum asked and inquired if he would keepthe parcel for her until she returned later in the day.
Then, with another bright word to the little old woman, the girl wasgone, looking back at the corner to smile and nod, and the last thingthat she saw was the spray of lilacs that symbolized unselfish love.
With no definite destination in mind, Roberta crossed Third Avenue andwalked as briskly as the throngs would permit in the direction of Fourth.In a mood, half amused, half serious, she began to soliloquize: "Now,Miss Roberta Vandergrift, it is high time that you were attempting toobtain employment in this great city. Suppose you go over to Fifth Avenueand apply for a position as sales girl in one of the fine stores whereyou used to spend money so lavishly?"
But, when the Fourth Avenue corner was reached, Roberta stopped in themiddle of the street heedless of the seething traffic and stared at anupper window where she saw a sign that fascinated her:
BURNS FOURTH AVENUE BRANCH DETECTIVE AGENCY
The building was old and dingy, the stairway rickety and dark, butRoberta in the spirit of adventure climbed to the second floor without athought of fear. A moment later she was obeying a message printed on acard that hung on the first door in the unlighted hall which bade herenter and be seated.
This she did and admitted herself into a small waiting room beyond whichwere the private offices, as the black letters on the frosted glass of aswinging door informed her. Roberta sat down feeling unreal, as thoughshe were living in a story book. She could hear voices beyond the door;one was quiet and calm, the other high pitched and excited.
The latter was saying: "I tell you I don't want no regular detective thatany crook could get wise to, I want someone so sort of stupid-lookingthat a thief would think she wouldn't get on to it if he lifted somethingright before her eyes."
It was harder for Roberta to hear the reply. However she believed that itwas: "But, Mr. Queerwitz, we only have one woman in our employ just now,and she is engaged out of town. I----"
The speaker paused and looked up, for surely the door to his privateoffice had opened just a bit. Nor was he mistaken, for Bobs, as usual,acting upon an impulse, stood there and was saying: "Pardon me foroverhearing your conversation. I just couldn't help it. I came to applyfor a position and I wondered if I would do." There was a twinkle in hereyes as she added: "I can look real stupid if need be."
The good-looking young man in the neat grey tweed, arose, and hisexpression was one of appreciative good humor.
"This is not exactly according to Hoyle," he remarked in his pleasantvoice, "but perhaps under the circumstances it is excusable. May I knowyour name and former occupation?"
Roberta did a bit of quick mental gymnastics. She did not wish to giveher real name. A Vandergrift in a Fourth Avenue detective agency! EvenGloria might not approve of that. Almost instantly and in a voice thatcarried conviction, at least to the older man, the girl said: "DoraDolittle."
Were the gray-blue eyes of the younger man laughing? The girl could nottell, for his face was serious and he continued in a more business-likemanner: "Miss Dolittle, I am James Jewett. May I introduce Mr. Queerwitz,who has a very fine shop on Fifth Avenue, where he sells antiques ofgreat value? Although he has lost nothing as yet, he reports thatneighboring shops have been visited, presumably by a woman, who departswith something of value, and he wishes to be prepared by having in hisemploy a clerk whose business it shall be to discover the possible thief.Are you willing to undertake this bit of detective work? If, at the endof one week you have proved your ability in this line, I will take you onour staff, as we are often in need of a wide-awake young lady."
It was difficult for Roberta not to shout for joy.
"Thank you, Mr. Jewett," she replied as demurely as a gladly poundingheart would permit. "Shall I go with Mr. Queerwitz now?"
"Yes, and report to me each morning at eight o'clock."
The two departed, although it was quite evident that the merchant was notentirely pleased with the arrangement.
"Mr. Queerwitz! What a name!" Bobs was soliloquizing as she sat on theback seat of the big, comfortable limousine, and now and then glanced ather preoccupied companion. He was very rich, she decided, but notrefined, and yet how strange that a man with unrefined tastes should wishto sell rarely beautiful things and antiques. Mr. Queerwitz was notcommunicative. In fact, he had tried to protest at the suddenly madearrangement and had declared to Mr. Jewett, in a brief moment when theywere alone, that he shouldn't pay a cent of salary to that "upstart of agirl" unless she did something to really earn it. Mr. Jewett had agreed,saying that he would assume the respons
ibility; but of this Roberta knewnothing.
They were soon riding down Fifth Avenue in the throng of fine equipageswith which she was most familiar, as often the handsome Vandergrift carhad been one of the procession.
Bobs felt that she would have to pinch herself as she followed her portlyemployer into an exclusive art shop to be sure that she was that sameRoberta Vandergrift. Then she reminded herself that she must entirelyforget her own name if she were to be consistently Dora Dolittle.
How Bobs hoped that she would be successful on this, her first case, thatshe might be permanently engaged by that interesting looking young manwho called himself James Jewett.