During all these busy days Petite Jeanne did not entirely lose track of her friend Merry of the smiling Irish eyes. Being endowed with a particularly friendly nature, she was more than glad to find friends outside the little circle in which she moved. Besides, she was deeply grateful to the little girl who had led her to the place where she had, in so miraculous a manner, purchased the priceless Fire God for only three silver coins.

“It was the beginning of all my good fortune,” she said to Merry on one occasion. “And,” she added quickly, “all my very hard work as well.”
123

So it happened more than once that she took the elevated train to the office where the auction sale of unclaimed, and damaged express packages was held every Friday. There she sat in the front row beside Merry and enjoyed two hours of relaxation. The endless variety of goods on sale, from a baby buggy without wheels to a black and white puppy with an enticing bark, intrigued her more and more; particularly the “union,” Merry’s little circle of choice friends.

To a casual observer these men would have seemed a rough lot. Soon enough Jeanne, with her power of looking into men’s hearts, learned that these men who struggled daily for their bread had been endowed by nature with hearts of gold.

Their interest in Merry was of a fatherly and sportsman-like sort. Knowing her brother and his handicaps they were glad to help her.
124

Unfortunately, at this time there was little they could do for her. Each Friday she brought a smaller purse and carried fewer articles away. The little basement shop, where Tad toiled incessantly, was feeling the pinch of hard times. Few were the visitors that came down the cellar stairs these days, and fewer still were the purchases they carried away. Only when the blue eyes of the girl spied some article for which she had an immediate sale did she venture a bid.

More than once when some particular member of the “union” had made a fortunate purchase and met with an immediate sale, he offered Merry a loan. Always the answer was the same: a loyal Irish smile and, “Thanks. You’ll be needing it next time.”

Little wonder that Petite Jeanne, sitting in the glowing light of such glorious friendships, absorbed warmth that carried her undaunted through rehearsals amid the cold and forbidding circle within the old Blackmoore walls.

It was on one of these visits to the auction house that the little French girl received an invitation to an unusual party.
125

Weston, the ruddy-faced German who kept a shop near Maxwell street, together with Kay King and a stout man known by the name of John, had bid in a large number of traveling bags and trunks. They were an unusual lot, these bags and boxes. Many of the trunks were plastered from end to end with foreign labels. Three of the bags, all exactly alike, were of the sort carried only by men of some importance who reside in the British Isles.

“How I’d love to see what’s in them!” Jeanne exclaimed.

“Do you want to know?” Weston demanded. “Then I’ll tell you. Junk! That’s all. I buy only junk. Inside these are some suits. Moths eat holes in them. Silk dresses, maybe; all mildewed.”

“Must be fun to open them, though. You never can tell what you might find.”

“Ja, you can never tell,” Weston agreed.

“Do you want to see what’s in them?” Kay King, who was young and good looking, leaned forward. “Come down to Maxwell Street on Sunday. We’ll save them until then, won’t we?” He appealed to his companions.

“Ja, sure!”

“Sure we will!”

Petite Jeanne turned to Merry. “Will you go?” she asked, suddenly grown timid.

“Yes, I’d like to,” Merry assented quickly. “I’ve never seen their shops. I’d love to.”
126

“All right,” Jeanne said with a smile. “We’ll come. And perhaps we’ll bring some friends.”

“Ja, bring friends. As many as you like. Mebby we could perhaps sell them some suitcases?”

Kay King gave Jeanne his card. And there, for the time, the matter rested. But Jeanne did not allow it to escape her memory. It was to be, she told herself, one of the strangest and most interesting opening-up parties it had been her privilege to attend.

That night Petite Jeanne once more danced alone beneath the yellow glow of Jimmie’s spotlight. The affair of two nights before had frightened her more than she cared to admit. But this little French girl p............