I'd been there before to
bring out a man or a woman or a girl as the case might be, and was
pretty well known as "Sky-Pilot Dan."
The party with me were astonished and wondered how such things as they
saw could exist in a city like New York. There were all classes in the
place, sailors, men, women, and girls, who had lost all self-respect and
thought of nothing but the drink and the dance.
While sitting there the lady's attention was drawn to a girl at the next
table who sat there looking at the lady, with the tears streaming down
her cheeks. The lady said, "Mr. Ranney, what is the matter with that
girl? Ask her to join us." I got another chair and asked the girl to
come over and sit beside the lady, who asked her how she came to be
there, and why she was crying.
At that the girl began to cry harder and sobbed as though her heart
would break. After she became a little more quiet she said, "You look
like my mother, and I'll never see her again! Oh, I wish I was dead!" We
asked her why she didn't go home to her mother. She cried out, "I can't!
They won't let me! And if I could get away how could I get to
Cincinnati, Ohio, where my mother lives?"
We got her story from the girl, and this is how it ran: She got into
conversation with a well-dressed woman in Cincinnati one day who said
that she could get her a position as stenographer and typewriter at a
fine salary.
Pages:
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110