Adrift in New York: Tom and Florence Braving the World
Page 9
Chapter IX.The New Home.
"You can tell Tim Bolton," said Dodger, "that I don't intend to comeback at all."
"You don't mean it, Dodger?" said Ben Holt, incredulously.
"Yes, I do. I'm going to set up for myself."
"Oh, Dodger," said Florence, "I'm afraid you will get into trouble formy sake!"
"Don't worry about that, Miss Florence. I'm old enough to take care ofmyself, and I've got tired of livin' with Tim."
"But he may beat you!"
"He'll have to get hold of me first."
They had reached a four-story tenement of shabby brick, which wasevidently well filled up by a miscellaneous crowd of tenants; shopgirls, mechanics, laborers and widows, living by their daily toil.
Florence had never visited this part of the city, and her heart sankwithin her as she followed Mrs. O'Keefe through a dirty hallway, up arickety staircase, to the second floor.
"One more flight of stairs, my dear," said Mrs. O'Keefe,encouragingly. "I've got four rooms upstairs; one of them is for you,and one for Dodger."
Florence did not reply. She began to understand at what cost she hadsecured her freedom from a distasteful marriage.
In her Madison Avenue home all the rooms were light, clean andluxuriously furnished. Here---- But words were inadequate to describethe contrast.
Mrs. O'Keefe threw open the door of a back room about twelve feetsquare, furnished in the plainest manner, uncarpeted, except for astrip that was laid, like a rug, beside the bedstead.
There was a washstand, with a mirror, twelve by fifteen inches, placedabove it, a pine bureau, a couple of wooden chairs, and a cane-seatedrocking-chair.
"There, my dear, what do you say to that?" asked Mrs. O'Keefe,complacently. "All nice and comfortable as you would wish to see."
"It is--very nice," said Florence, faintly, sacrificing truth topoliteness.
"And who do you think used to live here?" asked the apple-woman.
"I'm sure I don't know."
"The bearded woman in the dime museum," answered Mrs. O'Keefe, noddingher head. "She lived with me three months, and she furnished the roomherself. When she went away she was hard up, and I bought thefurniture of her cheap. You remember Madam Berger, don't you, Dodger?"
"Oh, yes, I seen her often."
"She got twenty-five dollars a week, and she'd ought to have savedmoney, but she had a good-for-nothin' husband that drank up all herhard earnin's."
"I hope she didn't drink herself," said Florence, who shuddered at theidea of succeeding a drunken tenant.
"Not a drop. She was a good, sober lady, if she did work in a dimemuseum. She only left here two weeks ago. It isn't every one I'd bewillin' to take in her place, but I see you're a real leddy, let alonethat Dodger recommends you. I hope you'll like the room, and I'll doall I can to make things pleasant. You can go into my room any hour,my dear, and do your little cookin' on my stove. I s'pose you'll doyour own cookin'?"
"Well, not just at present," faltered Florence. "I am afraid I don'tknow much about cooking."
"You'll find it a deal cheaper, and it's more quiet and gentale thangoin' to the eatin'-houses. I'll help you all I can, and glad to."
"Thank you, Mrs. O'Keefe, you are very kind," said Florence,gratefully. "Perhaps just at first you wouldn't object to taking me asa boarder, and letting me take my meals with you. I don't think Iwould like to go to the eating-houses alone."
"To be sure, my dear, if you wish it, and I'll be glad of yourcompany. I'll make the terms satisfactory."
"I have no doubt of that," said Florence, feeling very much relieved.
"If I might be so bold, what kind of work are you going to do?"
"I hardly know. It has come upon me so suddenly. I shall have to dosomething, for I haven't got much money. What I should like best wouldbe to write----"
"Is it for the papers you mean?"
"Oh, no; I mean for some author or lawyer."
"I don't know much about that," said Mrs. O'Keefe. "In fact, I don'tmind tellin' you, my dear, that I can't write myself, but I earn agood livin' all the same by my apple-stand. I tell you, my dear," shecontinued in a confidential tone, "there is a good dale of profit insellin' apples. It's better than sewin' or writin'. Of course, a youngleddy like you wouldn't like to go into the business."
Florence shook her head, with a smile.
"No, Mrs. O'Keefe," she said. "I am afraid I haven't a business turn,and I should hardly like so public an employment."
"Lor', miss, it's nothin' if you get used to it. There's nothin' dullabout my business, unless it rains, and you get used to havin' peoplelook at you."
"It isn't all that are worth looking at like you, Mrs. O'Keefe," saidDodger, slyly.
"Oh, go away wid your fun, Dodger," said the apple-woman,good-naturedly. "I ain't much to look at, I know."
"I think there's a good deal of you to look at, Mrs. O'Keefe. You mustweigh near three hundred."
"I've a good mind to box your ears, Dodger. I only weigh a hundred andninety-five. But I can't be bothered wid your jokes. Can you sew, MissFlorence?"
"Yes; but I would rather earn my living some other way, if possible."
"Small blame to you for that. I had a girl in Dodger's room last yearwho used to sew for a livin'. Early and late she worked, poor thing,and she couldn't make but two dollars a week."
"How could she live?" asked Florence, startled, for she knew verylittle of the starvation wages paid to toiling women.
"She didn't live. She just faded away, and it's my belief the poorthing didn't get enough to eat. Every day or two I'd make an excuse totake her in something from my own table, a plate of meat, or a bit oftoast and a cup of tay, makin' belave she didn't get a chance to cookfor herself, but she got thinner and thinner, and her poor cheeks gothollow, and she died in the hospital at last."
The warm-hearted apple-woman wiped away a tear with the corner of herapron, as she thought of the poor girl whose sad fate she described.
"You won't die of consumption, Mrs. O'Keefe," said Dodger. "It'll takea good while for you to fade away."
"Hear him now," said the apple-woman, laughing. "He will have hisjoke, Miss Florence, but he's a good bye for all that, and I'm gladhe's goin' to lave Tim Bolton, that ould thafe of the worruld."
"Now, Mrs. O'Keefe, you know you'd marry Tim if he'd only ask you."
"Marry him, is it? I'd lay my broom over his head if he had theimpudence to ask me. When Maggie O'Keefe marries ag'in, she won'tmarry a man wid a red nose."
"Break it gently to him, Mrs. O'Keefe. Tim is just the man to breakhis heart for love of you."
Mrs. O'Keefe aimed a blow at Dodger, but he proved true to his name,and skillfully evaded it.
"I must be goin'," he said. "I've got to work, or I can't pay roomrent when the week comes round."
"What are you going to do, Dodger?" asked Florence.
"It isn't time for the evenin' papers yet, so I shall go 'round to thepiers and see if I can't get a job at smashin' baggage."
"But I shouldn't think any one would want to do that," said Florence,puzzled.
"It's what we boys call it. It's just carryin' valises and bundles.Sometimes I show strangers the way to Broadway. Last week an old manpaid me a dollar to show him the way to the Cooper Institute. He was agentleman, he was. I'd like to meet him ag'in. Good-by, Miss Florence;I'll be back some time this afternoon."
"And I must be goin', too," said Mrs. O'Keefe. "I can't depend on thatKitty; she's a wild slip of a girl, and just as like as not I'll finda dozen apples stole when I get back. I hope you won't feel lonely, mydear."
"I think I will lie down a while," said Florence. "I have a headache."
She threw herself on the bed, and a feeling of loneliness anddesolation came over her.
Her new friends were kind, but they could not make up to her for heruncle's love, so strangely lost, and the home she had left behind.