noticed the pale, nervous face of the invalid.
"Then the children need to go out and take a walk every day; but I have no one to send with them. You wouldn't object to that, would you?"
"No, I should like it."
"Could you come soon?"
"I could come to-morrow, if you desire it," said Miss Manning, promptly.
"I wish you would. I have a nervous headache which will last me some days, I suppose, and the children can't keep still. I suppose it is their nature to be noisy."
"I can take them out for an hour now, if you like it, Mrs. Colman. It would give me a chance to get acquainted."
"Would you? It would be quite a relief to me, and to them too. Oh, there is one thing we must speak of. What compensation will satisfy you?"
"I don't know how much I ought to ask. I am willing to leave that matter to you."
"You would want your little girl to live with you, I suppose."
"Yes, she needs me to look after her."
"Very well. Then I will pay Mrs. Clayton for the board of both of you, and if two dollars a week would satisfy you—"
Would satisfy her? Miss Manning's breath was quite taken away at the magnificent prospect that opened before her. She could hardly conceive it possible that her services were worth a home in so nice a house and two dollars a week besides. Why, toiling early and late at her needle, she had barely earned hitherto, thirty-seven cents a day, and out of that all her expenses had to be paid. Now she would still be able to sew while the children were learning their lessons. She would no longer be the occupant of a miserable tenement house, but would live in a nice quarter of the city. She felt devoutly thankful for the change: but, on the whole, considered that perhaps it was not best to let Mrs. Colman see just how glad she was. So she simply expressed herself as entirely satisfied with the terms that were offered. Mrs. Colman seemed glad that this matter had been so easily arranged.
"Mrs. Clayton will show you the room you are to occupy," she said. "I have not been into it, but I understand that it is very comfortable. If there is any addition in the way of furniture which you may require, I will make it at my own expense."
"Thank you. You are very kind."
Here Mrs. Clayton reappeared, and, at the request of Mrs. Colman, offered to show them the room which they were to occupy.
"It is on the upper floor," she said, apologetically; "but it is of good size and pleasant, when you get to it."
She led the way into the room. It was, as she had said, a pleasant one, well lighted, and of good size. A thick woollen carpet covered the floor; there were a bureau, a clothes-press, a table, and other articles needful to make it comfortable. After the poor room they had occupied, it looked very attractive.
"I think I shall like it," said Miss Manning, with satisfaction.
"Are we to live here?" asked Rose, who had not quite understood the nature of the arrangement.
"Yes, Rosy; do you think you shall like it?"
"Oh, yes, ever so much. When are we coming?"
"To-morrow morning. You will have two little girls to play with."
"The little girls I saw in that lady's room downstairs?"
"Yes. Do you think you shall like it?"
"I think it will be very nice," said Rose, with satisfaction.
"Well, how do you like the room, Miss Manning?" said Mrs. Colman, when they had returned from upstairs.
"It looks very pleasant. I have no doubt I shall like it."
"I think you will need a rocking-chair and a sofa. I will ask Mr. Colman to step into some upholsterer's as he goes down town to-morrow, and send them up. If it wouldn't be too much trouble, Miss Manning, I will ask you to help Carrie and Jennie on with their hats and cloaks. They quite enjoy the thought of a run out of doors with you and your little girl. By the way, what is her name?"
"Rose."
"A very pretty name. I have no doubt the three children will soon become excellent friends. She seems a nice little girl."
"Rose is a nice little girl," said the seamstress, affectionately.
In a short time they were on their way downstairs. In the hall below they met the landlady once more.
"What is the price of your hall bedroom, Mrs. Clayton?" asked Miss Manning.
"Five dollars and a half a week," was the answer.
It needs to be mentioned that this was in the day of low prices, and that such an apartment now, with board, would cost at least twelve dollars a week.
"What made you ask, Miss Manning?" said Rose.
"I was thinking that perhaps Rufus might like to take it."
"Oh, I wish he would," said Rose; "then we would all be together."
"We are speaking of her brother," said Miss Manning, turning to Mrs. Clayton.
"How old is he?"
"Fifteen."
"Is he at school, or in a place?"
"He is in a broker's office in Wall Street."
"Then, as he is the little girl's brother, I will say only five dollars a week for the room."
"Thank you, Mrs. Clayton. I will let you know what he decides upon to-morrow."
They went out to walk, going as far as Union Square, where Miss Manning sat down on a bench, and let the children sport at will. It is needless to say that they very soon got well acquainted, and after an hour and a half, which their bright eyes testified to their having enjoyed, Miss Manning carried the little Colmans back to Waverley Place, and, with Rose, took the horse-cars back to their old home.
"Won't Rufie be surprised when he hears about it?" said Rose.
"Yes, Rosy, I think he will," said Miss Manning.
CHAPTER III.
JAMES MARTIN'S VICISSITUDES
While Miss Manning is seeking a new boarding-place for herself and Rose, events are taking place in Brooklyn which claim our attention. It is here that James Martin, the shiftless and drunken step-father of Rufus and Rose, has made a temporary residence. He had engaged board at the house of a widow, Mrs. Waters, and for two or three weeks paid his board regularly, being employed at his trade of a carpenter on some houses going up near by. But it was not in James Martin's nature to work steadily at anything. His love of drink had spoiled a once good and industrious workman, and there seemed to be little chance of any permanent improvement in his character or habits. For a time Rufus used to pay him over daily the most of his earnings as a newsboy, and with this he managed to live miserably enough without doing much himself. But after a while Rufus became tired of this arrangement, and withdrew himself and his sister to another part of the town, thus throwing Martin on his own resources. Out of spite Martin contrived to kidnap Rose, but, as we have seen, her brother had now succeeded in recovering her.
After losing Rose, Martin took the way back to his boarding-house, feeling rather doubtful of his reception from Mrs. Waters, to whom he was owing a week's board, which he was quite unable to pay. He had told her that he would pay the bill as soon as he could exchange a fifty-dollar note, which it is needless to say was only an attempt at deception, since he did not even possess fifty cents.
On entering the house, he went at once to his room, and lay down on the bed till the supper-bell rang. Then he came down, and took his place at the table with the rest of the boarders.
"Where's your little girl, Mr. Martin?" inquired Mrs. Waters, missing Rose.
"She's gone on a visit to some of her relations in New York," answered Martin, with some degree of truth.
"How long is she to stay?"
"'Till she can have some new clothes made up; maybe two or three weeks."
"That's rather sudden, isn't it? You didn't think of her going this