The Hope Chest Read Online Free PDF Page A

revolving door dumped Violet out onto the sidewalk. It was much darker out than she'd expected. It was evening of a long August day, but the street was a canyon between high granite and cast-iron skyscrapers, and the sun didn't reach the bottom. Motorcars, streetcars, and horse-drawn wagons rumbled by, guided by electric or kerosene lamps mounted on the front. People pushed past Violet, and she stumbled back against the granite wall of the train station. New York was loud, and fast, and scary, and she didn't like it.
    “Hey!” A boy in knee britches pushed her. “This is my section. Shove off.” He picked up an armload of newspapers and threw himself into the crowd, shouting, “Extra! Extra! Red Army advances on Warsaw; Poland sues for peace!”
    The crowd tossed the boy around like a kernel ofpopcorn in a shaking pan until he popped back out. He bumped up against the wall and shook his fist at Violet. “I said get lost. Go find your own sidewalk.”
    He shoved Violet again, and she stumbled out into the moving crowd.
    Terrified, Violet struggled to stay upright. The crowd caught her and carried her along. She didn't know where she was going. She wanted to ask if anybody knew the way to Henry Street, but nobody even looked at her. Once she was knocked off the sidewalk into the street, and there was a squeal of brakes and the blast of a long, curled brass car horn. Violet scrambled hastily up onto the sidewalk and tried to stay closer to the walls. She felt like Dorothy caught up in the cyclone or Alice falling down the rabbit hole.
    Sometimes the crowd crossed streets—she could tell because the sidewalks beneath her feet turned to asphalt road and then back into sidewalk again. Violet could see nothing but the shoulders of men's coats and women's dresses and here and there the face of someone her own age. Unlike her, they seemed able to weave expertly through the people, going whichever way they wanted.
    After what seemed like hours, Violet found herself free of the crowd. It was dark now, or almost dark—it was hard to tell, because the massive iron bulk of the elevated railway covered the sidewalk and part of the street like a roof, and electric signs over shop windows turned everything an eerie orange. New York was huger than Violethad imagined, and she had no idea how she was going to find Chloe. She was beginning to wish she had never left Susquehanna.
    The sounds of ragtime music jingled from some of the shops, and men in loose-fitting suits and straw boater hats lounged around the doorways. From one shop with a sign out front that said
Barbizon Wigs Best Quality
, Violet heard a woman singing along with a nickelodeon tinnily playing a song that had been popular a few months ago:
    How you gonna keep 'em down on the farm
After they've seen Paree?
How you gonna keep 'em from disappearing,
Jazzing around, and painting the town?
How you gonna keep 'em away from harm?
That's a mystery.
    As Violet passed a group of men lounging in front of a candy store, one of them reached out and grabbed her arm. “Hey, baby, come on in and dance with me. Let's shake a leg!”
    “Let go of me!” Violet kicked at his shins. She thought he smelled strongly of liquor, but that couldn't be. Alcohol had been illegal in the United States ever since the Volstead Act took effect in January.
    The stupid man just laughed, but one of the others shoved him and said, “Cheese it, Stan. That ain't no broad; that's just a kid.”
    Stan let go. Frightened and disgusted, Violet hurried away. After that, she stayed well away from the doorways, skirting inside the El's giant iron legs. She kept walking, fast. She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't like where she was.
    A train thundered overhead, making the iron frame of the El creak and the sidewalk under Violet's feet tremble. There was an enormous, crashing roar, as if the El were collapsing. Coal smoke filled her lungs and made her eyes smart. Violet stumbled blindly, unable to see