Adrift in New York: Tom and Florence Braving the World
Page 8
Chapter VIII.A Friendly Compact.
Florence, as she stepped on the sidewalk, turned, and fixed a last sadlook on the house that had been her home for so many years. She hadnever anticipated such a sundering of home ties, and even now shefound it difficult to realize that the moment had come when her lifewas to be rent in twain, and the sunlight of prosperity was to bedarkened and obscured by a gloomy and uncertain future.
She had hastily packed a few indispensable articles in a valise whichshe carried in her hand.
"Let me take your bag, Miss Florence," said Dodger, reaching out hishand.
"I don't want to trouble you, Dodger."
"It ain't no trouble, Miss Florence. I'm stronger than you, and itlooks better for me to carry it."
"You are very kind, Dodger. What would I do without you?"
"There's plenty that would be glad of the chance of helping you," saidDodger, with a glance of admiration at the fair face of his companion.
"I don't know where to find them," said Florence, sadly. "Even myuncle has turned against me."
"He's an old chump!" ejaculated Dodger, in a tone of disgust.
"Hush! I cannot hear a word against him. He has always been kind andconsiderate till now. It is the evil influence of my Cousin Curtisthat has turned him against me. When he comes to himself I am sure hewill regret his cruelty."
"He would take you back if you would marry your cousin."
"Yes; but that I will never do!" exclaimed Florence, with energy.
"Bully for you!" said Dodger. "Excuse me," he said, apologetically. "Iain't used to talkin' to young ladies, and perhaps that ain't properfor me to say."
"I don't mind, Dodger; your heart is in the right place."
"Thank you, Miss Florence. I'm glad you've got confidence in me. I'lltry to deserve it."
"Where are we going?" asked the young lady, whose only thought up tothis moment had been to get away from the presence of Curtis and hispersecutions.
They had now reached Fourth Avenue, and a surface car was close athand.
"We're going to get aboard that car," said Dodger, signaling with hisfree hand. "I'll tell you more when we're inside."
Florence entered the car, and Dodger, following, took a seat at herside.
They presented a noticeable contrast, for Florence was dressed asbeseemed her station, while Dodger, in spite of his manly, attractiveface, was roughly attired, and looked like a working boy.
When the conductor came along, he drew out a dime, and tendered it inpayment of the double fare. The money was in the conductor's handbefore Florence was fully aware.
"You must not pay for me, Dodger," she said.
"Why not?" asked the boy. "Ain't we friends?"
"Yes, but you have no money to spare. Here, let me return the money."
And she offered him a dime from her own purse.
"You can pay next time, Miss Florence. It's all right. Now, I'll tellyou where we are goin'. A friend of mine, Mrs. O'Keefe, has a lodgin'house, just off the Bowery. I saw her last night, and she says she'sgot a good room that she can give you for two dollars a week--I don'tknow how much you'd be willing to pay, but----"
"I can pay that for a time at least. I have a little money, and I mustfind some work to do soon. Is this Mrs. O'Keefe a nice lady?"
"She ain't a lady at all," answered Dodger, bluntly. "She keeps anapple-stand near the corner of Bowery and Grand Street; but she's agood, respectable woman, and she's good-hearted. She'll be kind toyou, and try to make things pleasant; but if you ain't satisfied----"
"It will do for the present. Kindness is what I need, driven as I amfrom the home of my childhood. But you, Dodger, where do you live?"
"I'm goin' to take a small room in the same house, Miss Florence."
"I shall be glad to have you near me."
"I am proud to hear you say that. I'm a poor boy, and you're a richlady, but----"
"Not rich, Dodger. I am as poor as yourself."
"You're a reg'lar lady, anyway. You ain't one of my kind, but I'mgoing to improve and raise myself. I was readin' the other day of arich man that was once a poor boy, and sold papers like me. Butthere's one thing in the way--I ain't got no eddication."
"You can read and write, can't you, Dodger?"
"Yes; I can read pretty well, but I can't write much."
"I will teach you in the evenings, when we are both at leisure."
"Will you?" asked the boy, with a glad smile. "You're very kind--I'dlike a teacher like you."
"Then it's a bargain, Dodger," and Florence's face for the first timelost its sad look, as she saw an opportunity of helping one who hadbefriended her. "But you must promise to study faithfully."
"That I will. If I don't, I'll give you leave to lick me."
"I shan't forget that," said Florence, amused. "I will buy a ruler ofgood hard wood, and then you must look out. But, tell me, where haveyou lived hitherto?"
"I don't like to tell you, Miss Florence. I've lived ever since I wasa kid with a man named Tim Bolton. He keeps a saloon on the Bowery,near Houston Street. It's a tough place, I tell you. I've got a bed inone corner--it's tucked away in a closet in the day."
"I suppose it is a drinking saloon?"
"Yes, that's what it is."
"And kept open very late?"
"Pretty much all night."
"Is this Tim Bolton any relation of yours?"
"He says he's my father; but I don't believe it."
"Have you always lived with him?"
"Ever since I was a small kid."
"Have you always lived in New York?"
"No; I was out in Australia. Tim was out in the country part of thetime, and part of the time he kept a saloon in Melbourne. There wasthieves and burglars used to come into his place. I knew what theywere, though they didn't think I did."
"How terrible for a boy to be subjected to such influences."
"But I've made up my mind I won't live with Tim no longer. I can earnmy own livin' sellin' papers, or smashin' baggage, and keep away fromTim. I'd have done it before if I'd had a friend like you to care forme."
"We will stand by each other, Dodger. Heaven knows I need a friend,and if I can be a friend to you, and help you, I will."
"We'll get out here, Miss Florence. I told Mrs. O'Keefe I'd call ather stand, and she'll go over and show you your room."
They left the car at the corner of Grand Street, and Dodger led theway to an apple-stand, presided over by a lady of ample proportions,whose broad, Celtic face seemed to indicate alike shrewd good senseand a kindly spirit.
"Mrs. O'Keefe," said Dodger, "this is the young lady I spoke to youabout--Miss Florence Linden."
"It's welcome you are, my dear, and I'm very glad to make youracquaintance. You look like a rale leddy, and I don't know how you'lllike the room I've got for you."
"I cannot afford to be particular, Mrs. O'Keefe. I have had a--areverse of circumstances, and I must be content with an humble home."
"Then I'll go over and show it to you. Here, Kitty, come and mind thestand," she called to a girl about thirteen across the street, "anddon't let anybody steal the apples. Look out for Jimmy Mahone, hestole a couple of apples right under my nose this mornin', the youngspalpeen!"
As they were crossing the street, a boy of fourteen ran up to Dodger.
"Dodger," said he, "you'd better go right over to Tim Bolton's. He'sin an awful stew--says he'll skin you alive if you don't come to thes'loon right away."