Part 32 (1/2)

”Rooms and board,” was the answer.

”Very well. I'm coming right down.”

The landlady proved to be a cheery, bustling little body about thirty-five years of age. Her eyes were blue, her hair chestnut. She bestowed a smile on the applicants that at once put them at ease.

”Yes, I happen to have two rooms at the top,” she said, eying Dora's attire with a woman's natural curiosity. ”They are three flights up; I have no others right now. My house is usually full at all seasons. You see, I have many stand-by's; people who have been here for years call it home. If you want to see the rooms you can leave your things here for a while.”

Leaving Dora below, John accompanied the landlady to the rooms above. On seeing them he was satisfied that they would do. They were in the rear.

One was quite large, and, in the crude estimation of the brick-mason, rather well furnished, for it held a ma.s.sive walnut bureau with a marble top and wide mirror lighted on both sides by globed gas-jets, one of which was pink, the other frosted white. There was a big rosewood sofa against a wall, also a rocking-chair, a center-table, a wide walnut bedstead, and an ample alcove containing running water, and a basin and towels. The other was the typical hall room with a narrow iron bed, a chair, a wash-stand, a rug, a row of hooks on the wall for clothing over which hung a calico dust-curtain, and a single window.

”I suppose this might do for the little girl,” suggested Mrs. McGwire, affably. ”Children don't need much room. She is a relative, I presume?”

”My sister. We are orphans,” John said, casually enough, considering the unlooked-for demand on his resources. ”My sister Dora. But I would want her to have the other room. I can bunk anywhere. I want to put her into the public school here, and she ought to have a cheerful place to study in at night and sit in through the day. I shall be away at work.”

”Fine, fine! I like that in you.” Mrs. McGwire smiled affably. ”I'm a widow with three children to bring up (that is why I am running this house) and I certainly appreciate such consideration for a child as you show. I have a boy of thirteen, a girl of eleven, and another of eight.

If you stay here the older ones, Harold and Betty, might be able to help start your sister out on her studies.”

”That would be nice,” John responded. ”She is a country girl and never has been to school at all.”

Just here a rather tall, slender boy with the face of a student opened the door of a room at the far end of the pa.s.sage and came forward.

”This is my big son,” Mrs. McGwire said, smiling. ”This is Harold. The doctor says he studies too hard, but I simply can't make him stop it.”

The lad smiled politely, put his arm about his mother's waist, and said: ”Somebody has taken my concordance. I left it with my other books, and it is gone.”

”Oh, I forgot,” Mrs. McGwire said, indulgently. ”Mr. King (he is our minister)”--this last to John. ”He was looking over your books this morning and he took it down to the parlor with him. It is there.”

”Thank you, mother,” the boy said, and went down the stairs.

”I'm very proud of my son,” Mrs. McGwire said, looking after the boy with beaming eyes. ”He really has a remarkable mind. Young as he is, he has already decided to be a preacher. He has read the Bible through twice, and can quote any pa.s.sage you mention. He is the leader of Mr.

King's big Bible cla.s.s. His father was a minister, and it has been my daily prayer that Harold would go into the same work.”

Ten dollars a week for the rooms and board for two was the price agreed on, and John went down with Mrs McGwire to inform Dora of the arrangement.

”I needn't ask your name,” Mrs. McGwire said, smiling, as he picked up the valises, ”for I see it on your bag. John Trott is short and plain enough.”

John blinked. He had really thought seriously of changing his name, but it was too late now; besides, what did it matter? He nodded. ”Yes,” he said, looking at the letters on the valise. ”A friend of mine, a sign-painter, made me a present of this last Christmas, and he lettered it himself.”

Dora liked the s.p.a.cious room very much, and it did not occur to her just then to compare it to John's, as she hastily removed her few belongings from his bags, and hung or laid them about the room.

After supper John went out to buy some tobacco, and when he returned he found Dora in her room, most timidly entertaining Betty and Minnie McGwire. Dora did not introduce her guests, and Betty rather gracefully did it herself. She was an affable talker, a rather slim, gawky blonde, while Minnie was a stocky brunette with heavy, dark brows and black hair that was too coa.r.s.e and wiry to be easily controlled.

”Betty's going to dress my doll,” Dora informed him. ”She has got lots and lots of doll-things packed away, and Minnie has the cutest doll-house you ever saw. It is full of tables and chairs and dishes and even closets to hang things in. Could you show it to him, Minnie?”

”Sure,” answered the child addressed. ”I'll go get it.”

”No, not to-night,” John interposed. ”Some other time.”