xt7n5t3fz87h https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7n5t3fz87h/data/mets.xml Martin, George Madden, 1866- 1897  books b92-235-31281121 English Bonnell, Silver & Co., : New York : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Angel of the tenement  / by George Madden Martin. text Angel of the tenement  / by George Madden Martin. 1897 2002 true xt7n5t3fz87h section xt7n5t3fz87h  










CHAPTER                                      PAGE
   I. The Advent of the Angel ....................  I
   II. The Entertainers of the Angel ..............x 6
 III. Introduces the Little Major .................. 26
 IV. The Angel Becomes a Fairy ... ............. 37
 V. The Angel Rescues Mr. Tomlin .............. 55
 VI. The Major Superintends the Angel's Educa-
        tion.                                 72
 VII. Miss Ruth makes the Acquaintance of old
        G. A. R ........ ...................0.... go
VIII. The Angel meets an old Friend .....   ........ 99
IX. Mary Carew is Tempted .....................    i ir
  X. The Major Obeys Orders ..................... 122
  XI. Tells of the Tenements Christmas .... ........ 125

 This page in the original text is blank.



              CHAPTER I.


  THE ladies of the Tenement felt that it was
a matter concerning the reputation of the
house. Therefore on this particular hot July
morning they were gathered in the apartment
of Miss Mary Carew and Miss Norma Bon-
kowski, if one small and dingy room may be so
designated, and were putting the matter under
  Miss Carew, tall, bony, and more commonly
known to the Tenement as Miss C'rew, of
somewhat tart and acrid temper, being pressed
for her version of the story, paused in her
awkward and intent efforts at soothing the
beautiful, fair-haired child upon her lap and



explained that she was stepping out her door
that morning with her water-bucket, thinking
to get breakfast ready before Miss Bonkowski
awoke, when a child's frightened crying startled
her, coming from a room across the hall which
for some weeks had been for rent.
  " At that," continued Miss Carew, moved to
unwonted loquacity, and patting the child in-
dustriously while she addressed the circle of
listening ladies, " at that, ' sure as life !' says I,
and stepped across and opened the door, an'
there, settin' on this shawl, its eyes big like it
had jus' waked up, an' cryin' like to break its
heart, was this here baby. I picked her right
up an' come an' woke Norma, but it's nothin'
we can make out, 'ceptin' she's been in that
there room all night."
  Many were the murmurs and ejaculations
from the circle of wondering ladies, while Miss
Bonkowski, a frowzy-headed lady in soiled
shirt waist and shabby skirt, with a small waist
and shoulders disproportionately broad; and
with, moreover, a dab of paint upon each high-
boned cheek,-nothing daunted by previous
failures, leaned forward and putting a some-



what soiled finger beneath the child's pretty
chin, inquired persuasively, " And isn't the
darling going to tell its Norma its name"
  Miss Bonkowski spoke airily and as if de-
livering a part. But this the good ladies for-
gave, for was not this same Miss Norma the
flower that shed an odor of distinction over the
social blossoming of the whole Tenement
Was not Miss Bonkowski a chorus lady at The
Garden Opera House
  So her audience looked on approvingly while
Miss Norma snapped her fingers and chirruped
to the baby encouragingly. " And what is the
darling's name " she repeated.
  The little one, her pitiful sobbing moment-
arily arrested, regarded Miss Bonkowski with
grave wonder. " Didn't a know I are Angel "
she returned in egotistical surprise.
  " Sure an' it's the truth she's spakin', fer it's
the picter of an angel she is," cried Mrs. O'Mal-
ligan, she of the first-floor front, who added a
tidy sum to her husband's earnings by taking
in washing, and in consequence of the size of
these united incomes, no less than that of her
big heart, was regardedwith much respect by the




Tenement, " just look at the swate face of her,
would ye, an' the loikes of her illegant gown! "
  " Won't it tell its Norma where it came
from Who brought the dearie lere and left
it in the naughty room  Tell its Norma,"
continued Miss Bonkowski, on her knees upon
the bare and dirty floor, and eyeing the dainty
embroidery and examining the quality of the
fine white dress while she coaxed.
  " Yosie brought Angel-" the child began,
then as if the full realization of the strangeness
of it all returned at mention of that familiar
name, the baby turned her back on Norma and
pulling at Mary Carew's dress imperatively,
gazed up into that lady's thin, sharp face,
" Angel wants her mamma,-take Angel to
her mamma," she commanded, even while her
baby chin was quivering and the big eyes
winking to keep back the tears.
  " Sure an' it shall go to its mammy," re-
turned Mrs O'Malligan soothingly, " an' whir
was it ye left her, me Angel  "
  " Yes, tell its Norma where it left its
mamma," murmured Miss Bonkowski coax-



  " Yosie bring Angel way a way," explained
the baby obediently. " Yosie say Angel be a
good girl and her come yite back. Where
Yosie,-Angel wants Yosie to come now," and
the plaintive little voice broke into a sob, as
the child looked from one to the other of the
circle beseechingly.
  The ladies exchanged pitying glances while
the persevering Miss Norma rattled an empty
spool in a tin cup violently to distract the
baby thoughts. " And how old is Angel"
she continued.
  Again the tears were checked, while the
grave, disapproving surprise which Miss Bon-
kowski's ignorance seemed to call forth, once
more overspread the small face. " Didn't a
know her are three " she returned reprov-
ingly, reaching for the improvised and alluring
  " Yes, yes," murmured Miss Bonkowski apol-
ogetically, " Angel is three years old, of
course, a great, big girl."
  " A gwate, big girl," repeated the baby,
nodding her pretty head approvingly, " that
what Yosie say," then with abrupt change of




tone, " where her breakfast, her wants her
  " An' she shall have it, sure," cried Mrs.
O'Malligan promptly, and retired out the door
with heavy haste, while Miss Bonkowski hos-
pitably turned to bring forth what the apart-
ment could boast in the way of breakfast.
  Meanwhile the other ladies withdrew to the
one window of the small room to discuss the
  " That's it, I'm sure," one was saying, while
she twisted up her back hair afresh, " for my
man, he says he saw a woman pass our door
yesterday afternoon, kinder late, an' go on up
steps with a young 'un in her arms. He never
seen her come back, he says, but Mis' Tomlin
here, she says, she seen a woman dressed nice,
come down afterwards seemin' in a hurry, but
she didn't have no child, didn't you say, Mis'
Tomlin  "
  Thus appealed to, timid little Mrs. Tomlin
shifted her wan-faced, fretting baby from one
arm to the other and asserted the statement to
be quite true.
  " An'ther case of desartion," pronounced



Mrs. O'Malligan, having returned meanwhile
with a cup filled with a thin blue liquid known
to the Tenement as nilk, "a plain case of
desartion, an' whut's to be done about it, I
niver can say ! "
  " Done! " cried Miss Bonkowski, on her
knees before Mary and the child, crumbling
some bread into the milk, " and what are the
police for but just such cases  "
  The other ladies glanced apprehensively at
Mrs. O'Malligan, that lady's bitter hatred of
these guardians of the public welfare being well
known, since that day when three small O'Mal-
ligans were taken in the act of relieving a pass-
ing Italian gentleman of a part of his stock of
bananas. Mrs. O'Malligan had paid their fines
in the City Court, had thrashed them around
as many times as her hot Irish temper had re-
kindled at the memory, but had never forgiven
the police for the disgrace to the family of
O'Malligan. And being the well-to-do per-
sonage of The Tenement, it should be re-
marked that Mrs. O'Malligan's sentiments
were generally deferred to, if not always echoed
by her neighbors.




  " An' is it the polace ye'd be a-callin' in "
she burst forth volubly, reproach and indigna..
tion written upon the round red face she turned
upon Miss Norma, "the polace An' would
ye be turnin' over the darlin' to the loikes of
thim, to be locked up along with thaves an'
murtherers afore night " And, as a chorus of
assenting murmurs greeted her, with her broad,
flat foot thrust forward and hands upon her
ample hips, Mrs. O'Malligan hurried on.
  "The polace is it ye say An' who but
these same polace, I ask ye, wn-as it, gettin' this
Tiniment,-as has always held it's head up
respectable,-a-gettin' this Tiniment in the
noospapers last winter along of that case of
small-pox, an' puttin' a yellow flag out, an
afther that nobody a-willin' to give me their
washin', an Miss C'rew here as could get no
pants to make, an' yerself, Miss Norma, darlint,
an' no disrespect to you a-spakin' out so bold,
a-layin' idle because of no thayater a-willin' to
have ye.   An' wasn't it thim  same polace
crathurs, too, I'm askin' ye, as took our rain-
wather cistern away along of the fevers breakin'
out, they made bold to say, the desaivin'crathers,



-an' me a-niver havin' me washin' white a-since,
for ye'll aisy see why, usin' the muddy wather
as comes from that hydranth yirselves! "
Mrs. O'Malligan glanced around triumphantly,
shook her head and hurried on. " An' agin,
there's little Joey. Who was it but the polace
as come arristin' the feyther of the boy for
batin' of his own wife, and him sint up for a
year, an' she a-dyin' along of bein' weakly an'
nobody to support her, an' Joey left in this very
Tiniment an orphan child ! Don't ye be a-callin'
in no polace for the loikes of this swate angel
choild, Miss Norma darlint, don't ye be doin
it ! An' the most of thim once foine Irish
gintlemen, bad luck to the loikes of thim ! "
  Mrs. O'Malligan paused,-she was obliged to,
-for breath, whereupon Miss Bonkowski very
amiably hastened to declare she meant no
harm, having absolutely no knowledge of the
class whatever, " except," with arch humor, " as
presented on the stage, where, as everybody
who had seen them there knew, they were
harmless enough, goodness knows! " And the
airy chorus lady shrugged her shoulders and
smiled at her own bit of pleasantry. " But for




the matter of that, I still think something
ought to be done, and what other means can
we find for restoring the lost innocent" and
Miss Norma tossed her frizzled blonde head,
quite enjoying, if the truth be told, the touch
of romance about the affair. For once she
seemed to be meeting, in real life, a situation
worthy of the boards of The Garden Opera
House, in whose stage vernacular a missing
child was always a " lost innocent." " If we do
not call on the police, Mrs. O'Malligan, how are
we to ever find the child's mother"
  Here 'Mary Carew looked up, and there was
something like a metallic click about Mary's
hard, dry tones as she spoke, for the years she
had spent in making jeans pantaloons at one
dollar and a half a dozen had not been calcu-
lated to sweeten her tones to mellowness, nor
to induce her to regard human nature with
  " Don't you understand  " she said bluntly,
"all the huntin' in the world ain't goin' to find
a mother what don't mean to be found "
   But what makes you so sure she don't "
persisted 'Miss Bonkowski, letting the child take



possession of spoon and cup, and quite revelling
in the further touch of the dramatic developing
in the situation.
  Unconsciously Mary pressed the child to her
as she spoke. " It's as plain as everything else
that's wrong and hard in this world," she said,
and each word clicked itself off with metallic
sharpness and decision, " the mother brought
the child here late yesterday, waited until i.
was asleep in the room over there, then went
off and left it. Why she chose this here partic-
ular Tenement we don't know and likely never
will, though I ain't no doubt myself there's a
reason. It ain't a pretty story or easy to un-
derstand but it's common enough, and you'll
find that mother never means to be found, an'
in as big a city as this 'n', tain't no use to
  " I will not-cannot-believe it," murmured
Norma-in her best stage tones. Then she
turned again to the child. " And how did it
come here, dearie  Has baby a papa--where
is baby's papa  "
  The little one rattled the tin spoon around
the sides of the cup. " Papa bye." she returned




chasing a solitary crumb intently.  " Yosie
sick, mamma sick, Tante sick, but Angel, her
ain't sick when she come way a way on-on-"
a worried look flitted over the flushed little
face, and she looked up at Norma expectantly
as if expecting her to supply the missing word.
" on,-Angel come way a way on-vaisseau-"
at last with baby glee she brought the word
forth triumphantly, " Papa bye and Angel and
mamma and Tante and Yosie come way a way
on vaisseau !"
  " You see," said Mary Carew, looking at
Norma, and the others shook their heads sadly.
  Miss Bonkowski accepted the situation.
"Though what a vasso is, or a tante either, is
beyond me to say," she murmured.
  " But what is goin' to be done with her,
then  " ventured little Mrs. Tomlin, holding
her own baby closer as she spoke.
  There was a pause which nobody seemed to
care to break, during which more than one of
the women saw   the child on Mary's knee
through dim eyes which turned the golden hair
into a halo of dazzling brightness.  Then
Norma got up and began to clear away the



remains of breakfast and to clatter the crock-
ery from stove and table together for washing,
while Mary Carew, avoiding the others' glances,
busied herself by awkwardly wiping the child's
mouth and chin with a corner of her own faded
cotton dress.
  Submitting as if the process was a matter of
course, the baby gazed meanwhile into Mary's
colorless, bony and unlovely face.  Perhaps
the childish eyes found something behind its
hardness not visible to older and less divining
insight, for one soft hand forthwith stole up to
the hollow cheek, while the other pulled at the
worn sleeve for attention. "What a name"
the clear little voice lisped inquiringly.
  Poor Mary looked embarrassed, but awk.
wardly lent herself to the caress as if, in spite
of her shamefacedness, she found it not un-
  The baby's eyes regarded her with sad sur-
prise. " A got no name, poor-poor-a got no
name," then she broke forth, and as if quite
overcome with the mournfulness of Mary's
condition, the little head burrowed back into
the hollow of the supporting arm, that she




might the better gaze up and study the face of
this object for pity and wonder.
  Poor Mary Carew-would that some one of
the hundreds of un-mothered and unloved little
ones in the great city had but found it out
sooner-her starved heart had been hungering
all her life, and now her arms closed about the
  " I reckon I'll keep her till somebody comes
for her," she said with a kind of defiance, as if
ashamed of her own weakness, " it'll only
mean," with a grim touch of humor in her
voice, "it'll only mean a few more jean pan-
taloons a week to make any how."
  " We'll share her keep between us alike,
Mary Carew," declared Norma, haughtily, with
a real, not an affected toss, of the frizzed head
now, "what is your charge, is mine too, I'd
have you know! "
  " Sure, an' we'll all do a part for the name of
the house," said Mrs. O'Malligan, " an' be
proud." And the other ladies agreeing to this
more or less warmly, the matter was considered
as settled.
  " An' as them as left her know where she is,"


      TgrE ANGEL OF THE TEA'EME        isT

said Mary Carew, the click quite decided again
in her tones, "if they want her, they know
where to come and get her-but-you hear to
what I say, Norma, they'll never come! "




  IT was one thing for the good ladies of the
Tenement to settle the matter thus, but an-
other entirely for the high-spirited, passionate
little stranger,-bearing every mark of refined
birth and good breeding in her finely-marked
features, her straight, slim white body, her
slender hands and feet, her dainty ways and
fearless bearing,-to adapt herself to the
situation. The first excitement over, her terror
and fright returned, and the cry went up un-
ceasingly in lisping English interspersed with
words utterly unintelligible to the two distracted
ladies, begging to be taken to that mother of
whom Mary Carew entertained so poor an
  It was in vain that good woman, with a tend-
erness and patience quite a variance with her
harsh tones, rocked, petted, coaxed and tried



to satisfy with vague promises of " to-morrow."
In vain did Norma, no less earnestly now that
the touch of romance had faded into grim re-
sponsibility, whistle and sing and snap her
fingers, the terror was too real, the sense of
loss too poignant, the baby heart refused
to be comforted, and it was only when ex-
haustion came that the child would moan herself
to sleep in Mary's arms.
  So passed several days, the baby drooping
and pining, but clinging to Mary through it
all, with a persistency which, while it won her
heart entirely, sadly interfered with the pro-
gress of jean pantaloons.
  As for the more material Norma, whose
time, free from the requirements of her profes-
sion, had hitherto been largely given to re-
shaping her old garments in imitations of the
ever-changing fashions, finding that the baby
clung to Mary, she bore no malice, but good-
naturedly turned her skill toward making the
poor accommodations of their room meet the
needs of the occasion, and in addition appointed
herself maid to her small ladyship. And an
arduous task it ultimately proved, for, as the

1 7



child gradually became reconciled and began
to play about, a dozen times a day a little pair
of hands were stretched toward Norma and a
sweet, tearful voice proclaimed in accents of
anguished grief, " Angel's hands so-o-o dirty! "
-which indeed they were each time, her sur-
roundings being of that nature which rubbed
off at every touch.
  Indeed so pronounced was the new inmate's
dislike to dirt, that Mary, sensitive to criticism,
took to rising betimes these hot mornings and
making the stuffy room sweet with cleanliness.
Not so easy a task as one might imagine either,
in an apartment which combined kitchen,
laundry, bedroom, dining-room and the other
conveniences common to housekeeping in a
12 X 1 5 space, as evidenced by the presence of
a stove, a table with a tub concealed beneath, a
machine, a bed, a washstand, two chairs, and
a gayly decorated bureau, Norma's especial
property, set forth with bottles of perfumery, a
satin pin-cushion and a bunch of artificial
flowers in a vase. And in putting the room
thus to rights, when it is considered that every
drop of water used upon floor, table or window,



had to be carried up four flights of stairs,
the sincerity of Mary's conversion to the
angelic way of regarding things cannot be
  Nor, if Mary's word can be taken, were these
efforts wasted upon her little ladyship, who,
awakened, by the bustle on the very first occa-
sion of Mary's crusade against the general dis-
order, sat up in the crib donated by Mrs.
O'Malligan,-the last of the O'Malligans being
now in trousers,-and hung over the side with
every mark of approving interest. And happy
with something to love and an object to work
for, Mary continued to scrub on with a heart
strangely light. " And I couldn't slight the
corners if I wanted to," she told her neighbors,
" with them great solemn eyes a-watchin' an'
a-follerin' me."
  It was on a morning following one of these
general upheavals and straightenings that the
three sat down to breakfast, the two ladies
feeling unwontedly virtuous and elegant by
reason of theirclean surroundings. The Angel
seeming brighter and more willing to leave
Mary's side, Norma put her into one of their




two chairs, and herself sat on the bed. But no
sooner had the baby grabbed her cracked mug
than her smooth forehead began to pucker, and,
setting it down again, she regarded Norma
earnestly.  " Didn't a ought to say some-
thing  " she demanded, and her eyes grew
dark with puzzled questioning.
  " And what should you say, darling" re-
turned Norma, leaning over to crumble some
bread into the milk which a little judicious
pinching in other directions made possible for
the child.
  The baby studied her bread and milk in-
tently. " Jesus "-she lisped, then hesitated,
and her worried eyes sought Norma's again,-
" Jesus "-then with a sudden joyful burst of
inspiration, " Amen," she cried and seized her
mug triumphantly.
  a It's a blessing she is asking," said Norma
with tears in her eyes, " I know, for I've seen
it done on the stage, though what with the
food  being pasteboard cakes and colored
plaster fruit, I never took much stock in it
before," and she laughed somewhat unsteadily.
  " Bread and butter, come to supper," sang


the baby with sudden glee, " that what Tante
says.-Where Angel's Tante" and with the
recollection her face changed, and the pretty
pointed chin began to quiver. A moment of
indecision, and she slipped down from her
chair. " Kiss Angel bye," she commanded,
tugging at Mary's skirts, " her goin' to Tante,"
the little face fierce with determination, every
curl bobbing with the emphatic nods of the
little head, " kiss her bye, C'rew," and the wild
sobs began again.
  So passed a week, but, for all the added care
and responsibility, the longer this wayward, im-
perious little creature, with the hundred moods
for every hour, was hers, the less was Mary
Carew disposed to consider the possibility of
any one coming to claim her. Not so with the
blonde-tressed chorus lady, who combined more
of worldly wisdom with her no less kindly
heart. Patiently she tried to win the child's
further confidence, to stimulate the baby mem-
ory, to unravel the lisped statements. But it
was in vain. Smiles indeed, she won at length,
through tears, and little sad returns to her
playful sallies, but the little one's words were




too few, her ideas too confused, for Norma to
learn anything definite from her lispings.
  But Norma was not satisfied. " My heart
misgives me," she murmured in the tragic
accents she so loved to assume,-one evening
as she pinned on her cheap and showy lace hat
and adjusted its wealth of flowers, preparatory
to starting to the Garden Opera House, " my
heart misgives me. It seems to me it is our
duty, Mary, to do something about this,-to
report it-somehow,-somewhere "-she ended
vaguely. " Hadn't I better speak to a police-
man after all  "
  Mary Carew drew the child,-drowsing in
her arms,-to her quickly. " No," she said,
and her thin, bony face looked almost fierce,
" no, for if you did and they couldn't find her
people, which you know as well as I do they
couldn't, do you s'pose they'd give her back to
us  They'd put her in a refuge or 'sylum,
that's what they'd do, where, while maybe she'd
have more to eat, she'd be enough worse off, a-
starvin' for a motherin' word ! "
  Miss Bonkowski, abashed at Mary's fierce
attack, made an attempt to speak, but Mary,



vehemently interrupting, hurried on: " I know
whereas I speak, Norma Bonkowski, I know, I
know. I've gone through it all myself. I ain't
never told you," and the knobby face burned
a dull red, " I was county poor, where I come
from in the state, an' sent to th' poor-house at
four years old, myself, and I know, Norma, the
miseries whereas I speak of. And the Lord
helpin' me," with grim solemnity, " an' since
He sent you here huntin' a room, an' since He
helped me get the machine, hard to run as it is,
somehow I'm believin' more He's the Lord of
us poor folks too,-an' Him a-helpin' me to
turn out one more pair of pants a day, I'll never
be the means of puttin' no child in a refuge no-
how an' no time. An' there it is, how I feel
about it ! "
  Miss Bonkowski turned from a partial view
of herself such as the abbreviated glass to her
bureau afforded. " Well," she said amiably,
" coming as I did from across the ocean as a
child," and she nodded her head in the sup-
posed direction of the Atlantic, " and, until late
years, always enjoying a good home, what with
father getting steady work as a scene-painter,




as I've told you often, and me going on in the
chorus off and on, and having my own bit of
money, I don't really know about the asylums
in this country. But I have heard say they are
so fine, people ain't against deserting their
children just to get 'em in such places knowin'
they'll be educated better'n they can do them-
  Mary's pale eyes blazed. " Do you mean,
Norma Bonkowski," she demanded angrily,
"that you'd rather she should go "
  Miss Bonkowski shrugged her shoulders
somewhat haughtily. " How you do talk,
Mary! You know I don't,-but neither do I
believe she is any deserted child, and it's worry-
ing me constant, what we ought to do. Poor
as I am, and what with father dying and the
manager cutting my salary as I get older,-I'll
admit it to you, Mary, though I wouldn't have
him know I'm having another birthday to-
day-" with a laugh and a shrug, " why, as I
say, I am pretty poor, but every cent I've got
is yours and the child's, and you know it, Mary
Carew," and the good-hearted chorus-lady, with
a reproachful backward glance at her room-


      THE ANGEL OF THE TENEMENT.        25

mate, flounced out the door, leaving the re-as-
sured Mary to sew, by the light of an ill-smell-
ing lamp, until her return from the theatre near



  WHILE the fine, embroidered dress in which
the Angel had made her appearance was all
Mrs. O'Malligan had claimed it as to daintiness
and quality, after a few days' wear. its dainti-
ness gave place to dirt, its quality thinned to
  Upon this the Tenement was called into
consultation. The Angel must be clothed, but
what, even from its cosmopolitan wardrobe,
could the house produce suitable for angelic
wear  Many lands indeed were represented
by the inmates who now called its shelter
home, but none from that country where
Angels are supposed to have their being.
  " On my word," quoth Miss Bonkowski to
the ladies gathered in the room at her bidding,
and Miss Norma gave an eloquent shrug and
elevated her blackened eyebrows as she spoke,



" on my word I believe her little heart would
break if she had to stay in dirty, ragged clothes
very long. Such a darling for being washed
and curled, such a precious for always cleaning
up! It makes me sure she must be different,"
-Miss Norma was airy but she was also humble,
recognizing perhaps her own inherent shrinking
from too frequent an application of soap and
water-" she's something different, born and
bred, from such as me! "
  But at this the ladies murmured. Miss
Bonkowski had been their pride, their boast,
nor did their allegiance falter now, even in the
face of the Angel's claims to superiority.
  Miss Bonkowski was not ungrateful for this
expression of loyalty, which she acknowledged
with a smile, as she tightened the buckle on
the very high-heeled and coquettish slipper she
was rejuvenating, but she protested, neverthe-
less, that all this did not alter the fact that the
Angel must be clothed.
  "As fer th' dirt," said the energetic Mrs.
O'Malligan, on whose ample lap the Angel was
at that moment sitting in smiling friendliness,
" sure an' I'll be afther washin' her handful uv




clothes ivery wake, meself, an' what with them
dozens of dresses I'm doin' fer Mrs. Tony's
childers all th' time, it's surely a few she'd be a-
givin' me, whin I tell her about th' darlint, an'
me a niver askin' fer nothin' at all, along of all
mine bein' boys. Sure an' I'll be a-beggin' her
this very day, I will, whin I carry me washin'
  And Mrs. O'Malligan being as good as her
word, and Mrs. Tony successfully interviewed,
the good Irish lady returned home in triumph
bearing a large bundle of cast-off garments, and
at once summoned the Tenement to her apart.
  The first arrived ladies were already giving
vent to their appreciation of the Tony gener-
osity when Miss Carew and Miss Bonkowski
arrived, Mary's bony face, in deference to the
angelic prejudices now ruling her, red and
smarting from an energetic application of the
same soap as ministered to her room's needs,
but beaming with a grim pride as she bore the
radiant Angel, wild with delight at getting out
of her narrow quarters.
  Yielding to the popular voice, though not



without reluctance, Mary placed her darling in
Mrs. O'Malligan's lap, and the process of ex-
hibiting and trying on the garments began at
  For a time her small ladyship yielded gra-
ciously, until seeing her pretty feet bared that
the little stockings and half worn shoes might
be fitted, she suddenly cast her eyes about the
circle of ladies, and won by the pretty, dark
beauty of young Mrs. Repetto, the Tenement's
bride of a month's standing, imperiously de-
manded that lady to take the pink toes to
  Overcome with having the public attention
thus drawn upon her, pretty Mrs. Repetto in
the best Italian-English she could muster, con-
fessed her inability to either understand or
comply, whereupon the baby, bearing no
malice in her present high good-humor, pro-
ceeded to take them herself.
  " This little pig went to market," the angelic
accents declared, while her ladyship smiled
sweetly upon Mrs. Repetto, and Mary Carew
breathlessly motioned for silence with all the
pride of a doting parent.




  " This little pig stayed home-" the ladies
on the outskirts pressed near that they too
might hear.
  " This little pig had bread and cheese,"
whereupon Mrs. Repetto recovering, went
down on her knees to be nearer the scene of
  " This little pig had none; " the interest now
was breathless, and as the last little pig went
squeaking home the ladies nearest fell upon
the darling and covered her with kisses.
  " An' it's jus' that smart she is, all the time,"
declared Mary Carew proudly, " an' 'taint like
she's showin' off, either, is it, Norma  "
  When at last the trying on was over, and
the Tony generosity was sufficiently enlarged
upon, the ladies, as is the way with the best of
the sex, fell into a mild gossip before separat-
ing. And while racy bits of Tenement short-
comings were being handed around, the small
object of this gathering, too young, alas, to
know the joys denied her because of her lim-
ited abilities to understand the nature of the
conversation, slipped down from Mrs. O'Mal-
ligan's lap, and eluding Mary's absent hold,



proceeded to journey about the room, until
reaching the open door, she took her way, un-
observed, out of the O'Malligan first floor front
and leaving its glories of red plush furniture
and lace curtains behind her, forthwith made
her way out the hall door into the street.
  The hot, garbage-strewn pavements and sun-
baked gutters swarmed with the sons and
daughters of the Tenement. Directly opposite
its five-storied front was the rear entrance to
the Fourth Regiment Armory. And there, at
that moment, a sad-eyed, swarthy Italian,-
swinging his hand-organ down on the asphalt
pavement in front of the Armory's open doors,
was beginning