A Desire to Hide Part Fourteen

As Mary had supposed, their good work cut short, the other girls wanted to go to the shops in the nicer end of Broadway. Mary had left the house looking forward to it, but now she felt she had no appetite for shopping at all. She endured the first store, but she did not buy anything. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk again, the other girls already speaking excitedly about where they wanted to go next, Mary came to a decision.

“I am afraid I am feeling poorly. Perhaps I have what Ann complained of this morning. You will have to excuse me.” This was not a lie, she told herself, she suspected that she had exactly what Ann had, self respect.

“I will see you home, Miss,” said the detective who had thus far paid her such unwanted attention. “As we have left the less savory parts of town, I find that my time is my own.”

“That does not seem a universally held opinion,” said Mary, her voice acidic. She was watching the other private detectives dance attendance on Laura.

“They hope for a tip, Miss,” said the detective, frankly.

“And you do not?” asked Mary. “I tell you frankly, you will not get one from me.”

“Allow me to see an ill young lady home without being suspected of an ulterior motive, Miss,” said the detective. Mary thought that she had offended him, but he was grinning.

“It is gallant of you, sir,” said Mary, realizing that he was entirely serious. “It is out of your way entirely however I am certain, and I mean to walk. Perhaps the fresh air will mend my headache.”

“Consider it my thanks for your swift thinking earlier, Miss.”

“No thanks are necessary, sir. It was in my interest as well, you ought remember.”

“All the same, please allow me to see you home, Miss. As a token of my esteem.” There was little Mary could say to protest that, so they set off down the street together, Mary having given polite excuses and farewells to the other girls who were present. It was appalling to realize how little they had been affected by their near miss and Mary could not help but wonder if a large part of it was that none of them realized just how near it had been. That in its self puzzled Mary however, after all, there had been many anti-catholic, or anti-protestant, riots over the years. They had come very close to starting one, and she and the detective who now walked beside her seemed to be the only two who understood that. It made her almost feel companionably towards the detective. It certainly made her nicer to him when he tried to make conversation.

“A lucky thing for you, Miss, that there had been someone in those parts who had been named Mary Finnegan. It might have gone poorly had there not been.”

“I used the most common Irish name that I could think of, sir,” said Mary. “It is of the sort of name that appears often in the papers when they speak of washerwomen and the like.”

“You are the only young lady I know, Miss, who walks so quickly when she is feeling poorly.” Mary had not realized that she had started walking faster in her anger, but apparently she had been.

“If it was a complaint of anything but my head, sir, I would not be.”

“Yes, Miss. They were giving me a headache too,” said the detective, smiling.

“You presume too much,” said Mary, growing offended again. It was the truth behind her ailment, but she certainly did not care to have it known.

“No young lady with a headache has ever had her legs pumping as you do,” said the detective. Mary almost tripped in shock and looked over at him, but he did not seem to realize that he had said anything in the least bit offensive. To speak of the limbs of a lady you hardly knew alone would be considered shocking, but to speak of her legs, and in public at that.

“I do not care to have you speak of them,” said Mary, her voice frosty. “It is not something that is done.”

“It is done every day, by people across the city, Miss,” said the detective laughing.

“Not in polite company, Mr,” Mary trailed off, realizing that she did not know his name at all, and therefore was not able to chide him with it.

“Krugs,” said the detective.

“Well then, Mr. Krugs, you will please keep a civil tongue in your head when you are speaking to a lady.”

“Yes, Miss,” said the detective, still looking pleased with himself. They were almost to the boarding house that Mary lived by then, and Mary decided she could easily make the rest of the walk with the detective in frosty silence. It was because she was looking in the other direction that she saw the newsboy. Normally she would not have noticed him, but she was in a strange mood, and there was something about the boy who looked to be about five, standing there with his papers, that would not allow her to simply walk past. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the five dollar bill that Peter had given her, shielding what she was doing from the street with her body.

“Here small-fry,” she said quietly. “Don’t say anything to anyone about it, and keep it well hidden, and the other boys won’t pinch it from you.” Then she stood and walked away, leaving the dazed newsboy behind her. She doubted the boy ever saw dollars, let alone five dollars.

“You ought not have done that, Miss,” said the detective.

“I set out to do a good deed today, Mr. Krugs, and now I have done one,” said Mary. “I am sorry if that was the tip that you expected.”

“I already told you I did not expect one, Miss. I meant that you should not have chided me on speaking proper and then used them newsboy words. Small-fry is not something that comes from a proper young lady’s mouth any more than the word legs.” Mary stormed up the stairs to her boardinghouse and slammed the door in his face. She did later feel badly for not thanking him for walking her home, but it was far too late by then, and she had been annoyed with him.