on a wild-goose chase."

So Burke returned to the station house and started out on his rounds.

Had he taken the same car as the country girl, however, he would have
understood the curious manoeuvre of the young man with the smile.

When the girl had ridden almost to the end of the line she left the car
at a certain street. The elderly gentleman with the neat clothes and
the fatherly gray hair did so at the same time. She walked uncertainly
down one street, while he followed, without appearing to do so, on the
opposite side. He saw her looking at the slip of paper, while she
struggled with her bandboxes. He casually crossed over to the same
side of the thoroughfare.

"Can I direct you, young lady?" he politely asked.

He was such a kind-looking old gentleman that the girl's confidence was
easily won.

"Yes, sir. I'm looking for the Young Women's Christian Association. I
thought it was down town, but a gentleman in the depot said it was on
that street where I got off. I don't see it at all. They're all
private houses, around here. You know, I've never been in New York
City before, and I'm kinder green."

"Well, well, I wouldn't have known it," said her benefactor. "The
Y.W.C.A. is down this street, just in the next block. You'll see the
sign on the door, in big white letters. I've often passed it on my way
to church."

"Oh, thank you, sir," and the country girl started on her quest once
more, with a firmer grip on the suitcase and the bandboxes.

Sure enough, on the next block was a brownstone building--more or less
dilapidated in appearance, it is true--just as he had prophesied.

There were the big white letters painted on a sign by the door. The
girl went up the steps, rang the bell, and was admitted by a tousled,
smirking negress.

"Is this here the Y.W.C.A.?" she asked nervously.

"Yassim!" replied the darkie. "Come right in, ma'am, and rest yoh
bundles."

The girl stepped inside the door, which closed with a click that almost
startled her. She backed to the door and put her hand on the knob. It
did not turn!

"Are you _sure_ this is the Y.W.C.A.?" she insisted. "I thought it was
a great big building."

"Oh, yas, lady; dis is it. Yoh all don't know how nice dis buildin' is
ontel you go through it. Gimme yoh things."

The negress snatched the suitcase from the girl's hand and whisked one
of the bandboxes from the other.

"Here, you let go of that grip. I got all my clothes in