Jr. Horatio Alger

Mrs. Flanagan Is Driven from the Field.

Miss Jane Wilmot had never been pretty, even when, twenty years before, she could lay claim to being a young lady; and her manners were decided; but a kind smile lighted up her face as she said to Rose:

"My child, you seem to be in trouble."

"Yes, indeed, madam," said Rose, "I am in great trouble."

"Don't think me inquisitive," said Miss Wilmot, "if I inquire into your trouble. I infer that you are in need of money."

"Yes, madam, I am very much in need of money, or I would not think of selling my mother's ring."

"Your mother—is she living?"

"No; she has been dead for five years."

"You are not alone in the world?"

"No, thank Heaven! I don't know how I could bear to feel myself alone. I have a sick sister and a little brother."

"And does the whole burden of their support fall on you?" asked Miss Wilmot, in a tone of sympathy.

"Not quite. My little brother Harry earns two dollars a week as a cash-boy."

"That is not much help."

"It is nearly as much as I earn myself. There is not much to be earned at making vests at thirty-five cents each."

"Thirty-five!" repeated Miss Wilmot, indignantly. "Who pays you such a wretched price?"

"Walton & Co."

"No wonder they prosper, if they pay so little for having their work done. How many vests can you make in a week?"

"One vest a day is about as much as I can make, but I have made seven in a week."

"And you consider that a good week's work?" asked Miss Wilmot.

"Yes, but I cannot average that."

"That makes—let me see—two dollars and forty-five cents. You don't mean to say, child, that your united incomes amount to only four dollars and forty-five cents?"

"It generally amounts to less, for I cannot average seven vests a week."

"Well, well, what are we coming to?" ejaculated Miss Wilmot, pityingly. "You don't look, child, as if you had always been so miserably poor."

"I have not. My grandfather was rich, but he took offense at mother's marriage to father and he left all his property to my cousin."

"The old wretch! Excuse me, child, I forgot that he was your grandfather. So you were wholly left out of the will?"

"If my cousin should die, the whole property would come to us."

"He should have left the property between you. But I fancy you think I am a curious old woman, with my questions."

"I don't think you an old woman at all, madam."

Miss Wilmot smiled. Though she was a spinster of over forty she was not wholly without appreciation of a compliment, and the reply of Rose pleased her.

"At any rate, I am old enough to be your mother, my dear," she said. "But that is neither here nor there. How much did you expect to get for that ring?"

"I hoped that I might get three dollars," said Rose, hesitatingly. "I owe Mrs. Flanagan—she is my landlady—a dollar and a half, and I could pay that and have a little fund left to fall back upon."

"A little fund—a dollar and a half!" said Miss Wilmot, pityingly.

"I suppose I would not get so much at a pawnbroker's?" continued Rose.

"My child, I am not a pawnbroker, but I think it will be better for me to lend you something on the ring."

"If you only would, madam! I feel timid about going to a pawnshop."

"Where they would offer some ridiculous trifle for it, no doubt. Here, child, give me the ring."

Rose drew it from her finger and handed it to Miss Wilmot.

The latter drew a purse from her pocket and slipped the ring into it.

"It is too small for me to wear," she said. "It will be safe in my purse."

She drew out two five-dollar bills and handed them to Rose.

"Ten dollars!" exclaimed Rose, in surprise.

"I don't do business on the regular terms," said Miss Wilmot, smiling. "I am sure the ring is worth more than ten dollars to you. Some day you may be able to redeem it."

"I am afraid not, madam; but this money seems like a small fortune to me."

"You don't know what future luck is in store for you. I will keep the ring for you. You should know who has it. I am Miss Jane Wilmot, of 300 Madison avenue. I am called a strong-minded woman; I hope that won't prejudice you against me."

"It would be hard for me to become prejudiced against you after your liberality, Miss Wilmot. I wish there were more strong-minded woman like you."

"Now for your name, my child."

"I am Rose Beaufort; my sister's name is Adeline, and my little brother, twelve years old, is Harry."

"I have a great mind to go home with you, if you won't consider it an intrusion," said Miss Wilmot.

"Far from it, Miss Wilmot—that is, if you won't mind our humble quarters."

"If you can endure them week after week, I can get along for half an hour," said the spinster. "Lead the way, my dear. Is it far? If so, we will take a horse-car."

"It is less than half a mile, I should think," said Rose.

"Then we will walk."

They soon reached the poor tenement-house.

"You see it is a poor place," said Rose, apologetically.

"Poor enough!" said Miss Wilmot, plainly.

"You may not care to come up."

"There is nothing delicate about me, my child. Go on, I will follow."

Rose entered the poor room in advance of her visitor.

"Home again, Rose?" said Adeline, whose head was turned away from the door, and who therefore did not see Miss Wilmot.

"Yes, Addie."

"Did you get any money? Did they pay you for the vests?"

"No; but I met a good friend, who has come home with me. Miss Wilmot, this is my sister, Addie."

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, my dear," said the spinster, and her face, plain as it was, looked positively attractive from very kindness.

"You look good!" said Addie, whose instincts were rapid. "I am sure you are a friend."

"I will be," said Miss Wilmot, emphatically.

The weakness of the younger sister appealed to her even more strongly than the beauty of the elder.

Just then a knock was heard at the door. Mrs. Flanagan had heard the step of Rose upon the stairs, and had come up to see if she had brought money for the rent.

"It is my landlady, Mrs. Flanagan," said Rose.

"I want to see what sort of a woman she is. Ask for delay, and let me go into this inner room," said Miss Wilmot, rapidly.

When Mrs. Flanagan entered the room there was no sign of a visitor.

"Well," said the landlady, entering upon her business at once, "have you got my money for me?"

But for Miss Wilmot's admonition, Rose would have produced the money without delay, but she thought it necessary to follow the directions of her new friend.

"They would not pay me for the two vests I had made," she said. "I must wait till all are finished."

"Just what I expected," said the landlady, placing her arms akimbo. "I saw how it would turn out. You needn't think I am going to be put off like this. Pay me my rent, or out you go, bag and baggage!"

"Would you turn my poor sister into the street, Mrs. Flanagan?"

"I am not going to keep you here for nothing, you may rely upon that."

"Won't you wait till next week?"

"When another week's rent will be due? No, I won't, and I hope that you understand it."

"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself, woman!" said a strong, decided voice, and Miss Wilmot strode out of the bedroom.

Mrs. Flanagan stared at her with mingled surprise and indignation.

"I am no more a woman than you are," she retorted.

"That's true enough," rejoined Miss Wilmot, "nor half as much. There's nothing womanly about you."

"Do you think I can let my rooms for nothing?" said the landlady, sullenly. She saw that Miss Wilmot was richly dressed, and she had a respect for such evidence of wealth.

"How much do the young ladies owe you?"

"A dollar and a half."

"What is the rent of these rooms?"

"Two dollars a week."

"Then, three dollars and a half will pay to the end of the present week?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Here is the money. They will move out at the end of the week."

"I shall be glad to have them stay," said the landlady, now anxious to retain them.

"I shall find them a better home. Good-morning."

Mrs. Flanagan went down stairs feeling that she was worsted in the contest. She was a bold woman, but she was rather afraid of Miss Wilmot.

"Now, my dears," said the spinster, "let us talk business."