Weighing in an instant the probable good to be
obtained by following either party, I determined to leave Mr. Blake
for one day to himself, and turn my attention to the girl he had
addressed, especially as she was tall and thin and bore herself with
something like grace.
Barely bestowing a glance upon him, then, as he passed, in a vain
attempt to read the sombre expression of his inscrutable face grown
five years older in the last five days, I shuffled after the girl now
flitting before me down Broome Street. As I did so, I noticed her
dress to its minutest details, somewhat surprised to find how ragged
and uncouth it was. That Mr. Blake should stop a girl wherever seen,
clad in a black alpaca frock, a striped shawl and a Bowery hat
trimmed with feathers, I could easily understand; but that this
creature with her faded calico dress, dingy cape thrown carelessly
over her head, and ragged basket, should arrest his attention, was a
riddle to me. I hastened forward with intent to catch a glimpse of
her countenance if possible; but she seemed to have acquired wings to
her feet since her interview with Mr. Blake. Darting into a crowd of
hooting urchins that were rushing from Centre Street after a broken
wagon and runaway horse, she sped from my sight with such rapidity, I
soon saw that my only hope of overtaking her lay in running.
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