“Yes, I’ve visited there.”

“Indeed?  Who did you know in L——?”

“Are you acquainted with the Cartwrights?”

“I know of them.  They are among our first people,” returned the girl.

“I spent a week in their family a few years ago, and had a very pleasant time,” said Pinky.

“Oh, I’m glad to know that,” remarked the girl.  “I’m a stranger here; and if I can’t find Mrs. Bray, I don’t see what I am to do.  A lady from here who was staying at the hotel gave me at letter to Mrs. Bray.  I was living at the hotel, but I didn’t like it; it was too public.  I told the lady that I wanted to learn a trade or get into a store, and she said the city was just the place for me, and that she would give me a letter to a particular friend, who would, on her recommendation, interest he self for me.  It’s somewhere along here that she lived, I’m sure;” and she took a letter from her pocket and examined the direction.

The girl was fresh and young and pretty, and had an artless, confiding manner.  It was plain she knew little of the world, and nothing of its evils and dangers.

“Let me see;” and Pinky reached out her hand for the letter.  She put it under her veil, and read,

“MRS. FANNY BRAY, “No. 631——­street, “——­

“By the hand of Miss Flora Bond.”

“Flora Bond,” said Pinky, in a kind, familiar tone.

“Yes, that is my name,” replied the girl; “isn’t this——­street?”

“Yes; and there, is the number you are looking for.”

“Oh, thank you!  I’m so glad to find the place.  I was beginning to feel scared.”

“I will ring the bell for you,” said Pinky, going to the door of No. 631.  A servant answered the summons.

“Is Mrs. Bray at home?” inquired Pinky.

“I don’t know,” replied the servant, looking annoyed.  “Her rooms are in the third story;” and she held the door wide open for them to enter.  As they passed into the hall Pinky said to her companion,

“Just wait here a moment, and I will run up stairs and see if she is in.”

The girl stood in the hall until Pinky came back.

“Not at home, I’m sorry to say.”

“Oh dear! that’s bad; what shall I do?” and the girl looked distressed.

“She’ll be back soon, no doubt,” said Pinky, in a light, assuring voice.  “I’ll go around with you a little and see things.”

The girl looked down at her traveling-bag.

“Oh, that’s nothing; I’ll help you to carry it;” and Pinky took it from her hand.

“Couldn’t we leave it here?” asked Flora.

“It might not be safe; servants are not always to be trusted, and Mrs. Bray’s rooms are locked; we can easily carry it between us.  I’m strong—­got good country blood in my veins.  You see I’m from the country as well as you; right glad we met.  Don’t know what you would have done.”

And she drew the girl out, talking familiarly, as they went.