Lillian Roy - Polly in New York

The long Pullman train, that left Denver behind and carried Polly Brewster away on her first venture from the ranch-home, was fitted up as luxuriously as capital could do it. Eleanor Maynard, Polly’s bosom friend, enjoyed her companion’s awe and wonderment – that a mere car should be so furnished.

“Nolla,” whispered Polly, furtively glancing about, “how different are these cars from the ones that come in and go out at Oak Creek!”

Eleanor, whose pet name was Nolla, laughed. “I should think they would be, Polly. Why, those ‘ancients’ that rock back and forth between Denver and Oak Creek, are the ‘only originals’ now in existence. They’ll be in Barnum’s Show next Season as curios.”

Polly seemed to fully appreciate the comfort of her traveling carriage, and remarked, “One would hardly believe these cars are going at all! They run so smoothly and without any awful screeching of the joints.”

Anne Stewart, the teacher to whose charge these two girls had been committed, had been studying the time-table, but she smiled at Polly’s words. Then she turned to her mother, a sweet-faced woman who was enjoying the trip almost as much as the young girls were, and said: “Mother, we’ll have at least seven hours in Chicago before we have to take the New York train. We can visit Paul all that time.”

“Goody! Then Poll can visit John and I can see Daddy,” exclaimed Eleanor, eagerly. “But we must first charter the wash-room to turn ourselves from dusty travelers into respectable citizens.”

“There isn’t a fleck of dust to be seen, Anne,” objected Polly, glancing around the tidy interior, then at herself and friends.

“Wait till after we have crossed the plains and passed through all kinds of towns – we won’t look like the same people.”

To Polly, that journey was a source of great interest and fun. The dining-car, the folding tables for games or work, the sleeping arrangements – all were so strangely different from the vast open-air life of the ranch.

Then the express train reached Chicago and the recess hours were filled with greetings, visits and then good-bys, before the little party of four was on its last lap of the journey.

After leaving Chicago, Eleanor asked curiously: “What did you think of our city, Polly?”

“I never saw such crowds of troubled people! Everyone looked as if the worries of the universe rested upon his mind. And not one soul walked or acted as if there was a moment to spare before the end of the world would throw everything into chaos!”

Polly’s graphic description caused her companions to laugh, and Eleanor added: “If that is what you think of Chicago, just wait until you reach New York. The folks, there, are simply wild! Now Chicago is considered quite slow, in comparison.”

Polly stared unbelievingly at Eleanor, and Anne Stewart laughed. But Mrs. Stewart placed a calm hand over the amazed girl’s throbbing wrist, and said sweetly: “Nolla is joking as usual.”

The four members which composed this little group of travelers arrived at Grand Central just before noon. Polly gazed in consternation at the vast station where the constant going and coming of trains and people made a most interesting sight for her.

“We’ll stop at the Commodore for a few days, girls, as it is so convenient for us,” remarked Anne, telling a porter to conduct them to the hotel mentioned.

Placed in a comfortable suite, Anne remarked: “I think we will call up the Evans or the Latimers, next. You remember, we were told to let them know the moment we arrived.”

The others agreed to this suggestion, so Anne telephoned the two families. Mrs. Latimer was out, but Mrs. Evans said she would come right down town to meet the new-comers.

“Well, we can unpack our bags while we are waiting for her,” suggested Anne. “But we must manage to get to a store this afternoon, and do some shopping for Polly.”

“Dear me! I was hoping you would show us all the sky-scrapers I’ve read about,” said Polly, eagerly.

“I planned to let the sight-seeing wait for a few days, as we must secure a place to live in, first of all. Here it is the middle of September, and I have to start school work the first of October, you know. In a great city like New York, the desirable apartments are generally taken as early as July and August. So we are up against it, in beginning to seek so late in the season.”

“But we can’t hunt at night, Anne, and you might take us out to show us the Great White Way – as the boys call it,” urged Eleanor.

Mrs. Evans came down in time to have luncheon with the Westerners, and in the hour she visited with them, it was learned that Mrs. Latimer and she had scoured the uptown west-side for suitable apartments for Mrs. Stewart, but everything had been leased long before. She concluded with:

“So I really do not see what you are going to do, unless you just happen to stumble over a place which has recently been resigned. There is absolutely no use in doing any place above Ninety-sixth street, as we sought diligently from that street up as far as One Hundred and Sixty-eighth street, and not a decent thing to be seen or had!”

“But Ninety-sixth street is awfully far uptown, isn’t it?” asked Anne, to whom the city was as yet a small middle-west town.

“Oh, dear, no! It is about the center of the city, between North and South, these days.”

“I’m sure we will find just what we want, dear Mrs. Evans, but we are grateful to you for being so kind to us,” said Polly.

“My dear child, I feel that I have done nothing in comparison to all you have done for me and mine. To know that my dear brother had friends during the last days of his life, means so much to me. I always had a horrible feeling that he died in the Klondike without money or friends;” and Mrs. Evans hurriedly dried the tears welling up in her eyes.

Of course, that launched the conversation about Old Man Montresor, and so interested were all concerned, that Mrs. Evans started when she heard the mantel clock chime the hour.

“Merciful goodness! Here am I – my first call, and staying all day!” she laughed.

“It’s not late, Mrs. Evans. We were only going to look up a first-class shop where Polly can buy a few things,” replied Anne.

“Perhaps I can be of service in recommending a place?”

Several shops of quality were spoken of, and as these were located on Fifth avenue, not far from Forty-second street, everyone felt relieved. It would not take much time to do this necessary shopping, but Mrs. Stewart preferred to remain at the hotel.

Mrs. Evans said good-by and the three young folks walked to Fifth avenue. It was about four o’clock and the avenue presented an endless stream of automobiles – one line going down, and the other line going uptown. The crowds of people hurrying to and fro made Polly tremble.

“For goodness’ sake, Anne, where do all these folks come from, and where are they rushing to?”

Anne and Eleanor laughed.

“Well! If this is your wonderful Fifth avenue, I don’t think much of it,” declared Polly, a few moments later.

“Why – it’s simply great!” exclaimed Eleanor, having a far different view-point of the city.

“Great! Why, just look how narrow the street is? Main street, in Oak Creek, is twice as wide. And Denver has nicer streets than this famous alley you hear so much about,” scorned Polly.

Again her companions laughed merrily. At this moment a traffic policeman sounded a shrill whistle. Instantly the mass of pedestrians, backed up on the curbs, started to cross. Or to use Polly’s own description in the letter she wrote home that night: “Really, dearies, they catapulted back and forth like rockets! We had to rush with them, or be trampled upon. It is just awful!