LITMIR.BIZ

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bad enough for boys to fight, but it is worse for girls.”

      “Don’t see it,” said Tom.

      Had Tom been in a higher social position, it might have been suggested to her that to fight was not ladylike; but there was such an incongruity between Tom’s appearance and anything lady-like, that such an appeal would have been out of place. The fact is, Tom claimed no immunity or privilege on the score of sex, but regarded herself, to all intents and purposes, as a boy, and strongly wished that she were one.

      The gentleman looked at her, rather puzzled, and walked away, satisfied with having stopped the fight.

      Bob did not seem inclined to renew hostilities, but crossed the street, and took his stand there. Tom, by right of conquest, held her place until she had sold out her whole stock of papers.

      CHAPTER VI

      AN UNFASHIONABLE HOTEL

      Tom found at the end of the afternoon that her capital had increased from twenty-five to fifty cents.

      “Granny won’t get none of this,” she soliloquized, complacently. “It’s all mine.”

      Sitting on a doorstep she counted over the money with an entirely different feeling from what she had experienced when it was to be transferred to granny. Now it was all her own, and, though but fifty cents, it made her feel rich.

      “What shall I do with it?” thought Tom.

      She had a square meal in the middle of the day; but several hours had passed since then, and she felt hungry again; Tom did not see any necessity for remaining hungry, with fifty cents in her possession. She made her way, therefore, to another eating-house, where the prices were the same with those at the one before mentioned, and partook of another square meal, leaving out the pie. This reduced her capital to thirty cents. She felt that she ought to save this, to start in business upon in the morning. As a street-sweeper she required no capital except her broom; but though Tom was not troubled with pride, she preferred to sell papers, or take up some other street vocation. Besides, she knew that as a street-sweeper on Broadway, she would be more likely to be discovered by the old woman whom she was now anxious to avoid.

      After eating supper Tom went out into the streets, not knowing exactly how to spend her time. Usually, she had gone down into the court, or the street, and played with the children of her own and neighboring tenement houses. But now she did not care to venture back into the old locality.

      So she strolled about the streets aimlessly, until she felt sleepy, and began to consider whereabouts to bestow herself for the night. She might have gone to the “Girls’ Lodging House,” if she had known of such an institution; but she had never heard of it. Chance brought her to a basement, on which was the sign,—

      “LODGINGS—FIVE CENTS.”

      This attracted Tom’s attention. If it had not been a cold night, she would have been willing to sleep out, which would have been cheaper; but it was a damp and chilly evening, and her dress was thin.

      “Five cents won’t bust me!” thought Tom. “I’ll go in.”

      She went down some steps, and opened a door into a room very low-studded, and very dirty.

      A stout woman, in a dirty calico loose-gown, was sitting in a chair, with a fat, unhealthy-looking baby in her lap.

      “What you want, little gal?” she asked.

      “Where’s your lodgin’?” asked Tom.

      “In back,” answered the woman, pointing to an inner room, partially revealed through a half-open door. It was dark, having no windows, and dirtier, if possible, than the front room. The floor was covered with straw, for beds and bedsteads were looked upon as unnecessary luxuries in this economical lodging-house.

      “Is that the place?” asked Tom.

      “Yes. Do you want to stop here to-night?”

      Tom had not been accustomed to first-class hotels, still the accommodations at granny’s were rather better than this. However, the young Arab did not mind. She had no doubt she could sleep comfortably on the straw, and intimated her intention of stopping.

      “Where’s your money?” asked the woman.

      The invariable rule in this establishment was payment in advance, and, perhaps, considering the character of the customers, it was the safest rule that could be adopted.

      Tom took out her money, and counted out five cents into the woman’s palm. She then put back the remainder in her pocket. If she had been less sleepy, she might have noticed the woman’s covetous glance, and been led to doubt the safety of her small fortune. But Tom was sleepy, and her main idea was to go to bed as soon as possible.

      “Lay down anywhere,” said the landlady, dropping the five cents into her pocket.

      Tom’s preparation for bed did not take long. No undressing was required, for it was the custom here to sleep with the day’s clothes on. Tom stowed herself away in a corner, and in five minutes was asleep.

      It was but little after eight o’clock, and she was, at present, the only lodger.

      No sooner did her deep, regular breathing indicate slumber, than the landlady began to indulge in various suspicious movements. She first put down her baby, and then taking a lantern,—the only light which could safely be carried into the lodging-room, on account of the straw upon the floor,—crept quietly into the inner room.

      “She’s fast asleep,” she muttered.

      She approached Tom with cautious step. She need not have been afraid to awaken her. Tom was a good sleeper, and not likely to wake up, unless roughly awakened, until morning.

      Tom was lying on her side, with her face resting on one hand.

      The woman stooped down, and began to look for the pocket in which she kept her money; but it was in that part of her dress upon which she was lying. This embarrassed the woman somewhat, but an idea occurred to her. She took up a straw, and, bending over, gently tickled Tom’s ear. Tom shook her head, as a cat would under similar circumstances, and on its being repeated turned over, muttering, “Don’t, granny!”

      This was what her dishonest landlady wanted. She thrust her hand into Tom’s pocket, and drew out the poor girl’s entire worldly treasure. Tom, unconscious of the robbery, slept on; and the woman went back to the front room to wait for more lodgers. They began to come in about ten, and by twelve the room was full. It was a motley collection, and would have been a curious, though sad study, to any humane observer. They were most of them in the last stages of ill-fortune, yet among them was more than one who had once filled a respectable position in society. Here was a man of thirty-five, who ten years before had filled a good place, with a fair salary, in a city bank. But in an evil hour he helped himself to some of the funds of the bank. He lost his situation, and, though he escaped imprisonment, found his prospects blasted. So he had gone down hill, until at length he found himself reduced to such a lodging-house as this, fortunate if he could command the small sum needful to keep him from a night in the streets.

      Next him was stretched a man who was deserving still more pity, since his misfortunes sprang rather from a want of judgment than from his own fault. He was a scholar, with a fair knowledge of Latin and Greek, and some ability as a writer. He was an Englishman who had come to the city in the hope of making his acquisitions available, but had met with very poor encouragement. He found that both among teachers and writers the demand exceeded the supply, at least for those of moderate qualifications; and, having no influential friends, had sought for employment almost in vain. His small stock of money dwindled, his suit became shabby, until he found himself, to his deep mortification and disgust, compelled to resort to such lodging-houses as this, where he was obliged to herd with the lowest and most abandoned class.

      Next to him lay a mechanic, once in profitable employment. But drink had been his ruin; and now he was a vagabond, spending the little money he earned, at rum-shops, except what was absolutely necessary for food.

      There is no need of cataloguing the remainder of Meg Morely’s lodgers. Her low rates generally secured her a room-full, and a dozen, sometimes

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