Miss Manning paused before a house, not indeed very stylish, but considerably more attractive than the tenement house in Leonard Street.

"This is where I live," she said.

"Is it a tenement house?" asked the newsboy.

"No, there's a woman keeps it,—a Mrs. Nelson. Some of the rooms are occupied by boarders, but others only by lodgers. I can't afford to pay the board she asks; so I only hire a room, and board my self."

While she was speaking, the two children were following her upstairs.

The entries were dark, and the stairs uncarpeted, but neither Rough and Ready nor his sister had been used to anything better, and were far from criticising what might have been disagreeable to those more fastidious.

Miss Manning kept on till she reached the fourth story. Here she paused before a door, and, taking a key from her pocket, opened it.

"This is where I live," she said. "Come in, both of you."

The room occupied by the seamstress was about twelve feet square. Though humble enough in its appearance, it was exquisitely neat. In the centre of the floor was a strip of carpeting about eight feet square, leaving, of course, a margin of bare floor on all sides.

"Why, you've got a carpet, Miss Manning!" said Rose, with pleasure.

"Yes," said the seamstress, complacently; "I bought it at an auction store one day, for only a dollar and a half. I couldn't well spare the money; but it seemed so nice to have a carpet, that I yielded to the temptation, and bought it."

"It seems more respectable to have a carpet," said the newsboy.

"It's more comfortable," said Miss Manning, "and it seems as if the room was warmer, although it doesn't cover the whole floor."

"What a nice little stove!" said Rose, admiringly, "Can you cook by it?"

She pointed to a small square stove, at one end of the apartment.

"Oh, yes, I can boil eggs, and do almost anything. I bought it at a junk-shop for only two dollars. I don't have a fire all the time, because I can't afford it. But it is pleasant, even when I am feeling cold, to think that I can have a fire when I want to."

In the corner of the room was a bedstead. There was also a very plain, and somewhat battered, bureau, and a small glass of seven inches by nine hanging over it. On a small table were placed half-a-dozen books, including the Bible, which years ago Miss Manning had brought from her country home, the gift of a mother, now many years dead. The poor seamstress never let a day pass without reading a chapter in the good book, and, among all her trials and privations, of which she had many, she had never failed to derive comfort and good cheer from it.

"How nice your room looks, Miss Manning!" said Rose, admiringly.

"Yes, it's jolly," said the newsboy.

"I try to make it as comfortable as I can; but my means are small, and I cannot do all I wish."

"And are you willing to let Rose come and live with you?"

"I shall be very glad to have her. She will be so much company for me."

"You'd like to come, Rosie, wouldn't you?"

"Ever so much," said the little girl; "that is, if I can see you every day."

"Of course you will. I'll come up to see how you're gettin' along."

"Then it's all settled," said the seamstress, cheerfully. "Take off your bonnet, Rose, and I'll tell you where to put it."

"It isn't all settled yet," said Rough and Ready. "I must find out about how much it's going to cost for Rose, and then I can pay you so much every week. How much rent do you pay for this room?"

"It costs me a dollar a week."

"Maybe they'll charge more if there are two in it."

"I think not much. I could go and ask Mrs. Nelson."

"I wish you would."

The seamstress went downstairs, and saw the landlady. She returned with the intelligence that Mrs. Nelson would be willing to have her receive Rose on the payment of twenty-five cents additional.

"That will make a dollar and a quarter for the two," said the newsboy. "Then I'll pay sixty-two cents a week for Rose's share."

"No," said the seamstress,—"only twenty-five cents. That is all that is charged extra for her."

"Rose must pay her half of the expenses," said the newsboy, decidedly. "That'll be sixty-two cents a week for the rent."

"But you've got yourself to provide for, as well as your little sister," said the seamstress.

"I can do it," said Rough and Ready, confidently. "Don't you worry about that."

"But it seems as if I was making money out of Rose."

"No more'n she is making money out of you. It's the same for both, as far as I can see," said the newsboy. "Now, how much does it cost you for eatin' a week?"

"About a dollar and a quarter," said the seamstress, after a little thought.

"That's a very little. What can you get for that?"

"There's a small loaf of bread every day. I get that at the baker's round the corner. I don't often get butter, but I keep a little on hand, so that when my appetite is poor I can use it. When eggs are cheap, I boil one for my breakfast."

"Don't you ever eat meat?"

"Sometimes I buy half a pound of steak at the market. That lasts me two days. It strengthens me up wonderfully."

"Half a pound of meat in two days!" repeated Rough and Ready, wonderingly. "I guess you don't know what it is to have a newsboy's appetite."

"No," said the seamstress, smiling. "I never was a newsboy that I remember."

"Rufie can sell papers as fast as anything," said Rose, who had a high appreciation of her brother's merits. "I stood by him one morning when he was selling. He knew just what paper everybody wanted, and made them buy, whether they wanted to or not."

"Oh, I'm a rouser at selling papers," said the newsboy. "I can sell more in a mornin' than any boy on the street."

"You look like a smart boy."

"Do I? I wish other people thought so; but I tried for a place once, and the man looked at me as if he thought I'd start off early some mornin' with his cash-box, and declined engagin' me. Maybe he thought I looked too smart."

"Rufie wouldn't steal for anything!" said Rose, with indignant emphasis.

"I don't know about that. I've stolen you this mornin'. I expect Mr. Martin will open his eyes wider'n usual when he finds you are gone. I'll tell you what I'll do, Miss Manning," he continued, turning to the seamstress. "As near as I can make out, Rose will cost about three dollars a week."

"That's too much. Sixty-two cents and a dollar and a quarter make not quite two dollars."

"I know that, but you will want to live a little better than you have done. You must have meat oftener, and will want fire all the time when it's cold. Then it won't do you any hurt to have a good cup of tea every night."

"But three dollars seem a good deal for you to pay," expostulated Miss Manning.

"Don't trouble yourself about that. I can work more cheerful, if I know that Rose is comfortable. Maybe, if I'll buy her a book, you'll teach her a little every day."

"I will, and with great pleasure."

"Then I'll bring the book along to-night."

"Oh, there's one thing more," said Rough and Ready, suddenly. "Don't you want to take another boarder?"

"Another boarder?"

"Yes, I'd like to come round, and take supper with you every night. Breakfast I'll get at the Lodgin' House, and dinner at a restaurant, but it would be pleasant to come round, and eat supper with you and Rose."

"It would be pleasant for us also," said Miss Manning.

"I guess that'll cost you a dollar a week more, so I'll pay you four dollars a week."

"I don't like to have you pay so much. I feel as if I were making money out of you."

"I'll take care you don't. You don't know what an appetite I've got. I'll come round at six every evening, or before; only six can be the hour for supper."

"Very well, Rufus, but you must promise me one thing."

"What is it?"

"That if you find it is too hard on you to pay so much money, you will let me know."

"All right. So it's all settled?"

"Yes."

"Good!" said the newsboy, with an air of satisfaction. "Now I must be goin' to business. I don't know exactly what time it is, as I left my gold watch lyin' on the sofy in Leonard Street."

"Oh, what a story, Rufie!" said Rose. "He hasn't got any gold watch, Miss Manning, and we didn't have any sofy in Leonard Street."

"That's the way she's always exposin' me, Miss Manning," said the newsboy, laughing.

"Well, Rosy, good-by. It's time for the evenin' papers to be out, and I must be on hand, as the other boys."

He kissed his little sister, and hurried downstairs. As he was making his way towards the offices of the evening papers, he felt great satisfaction in thinking of his unexpected good fortune in finding so desirable a home for his little sister. Hitherto he had felt a great deal of anxiety about her, during his necessary absence during the day, knowing only too well the character of his stepfather. He had known that there was danger of little Rose being abused in his frequent fits of intoxication, and more than once his heart was filled with apprehension, as he ascended the stairs to the cold and cheerless room in Leonard Street, which he had been forced to call home for the lack of a better.

But now there was a great change for the better. He knew that Miss Manning would be kind to little Rose, and would take good care of her, as well as provide her with pleasant company, while he was on the street selling papers. It was pleasant to him also to reflect that the arrangement would be an advantageous one for the seamstress. He had noticed her pale cheek, and he felt sure that it proceeded, not only from steady and confining work, but also from a lack of nourishing food. She would now be able to live better and more comfortable, and without exceeding the sum which she had hitherto been accustomed to expend. In the first place, she would have to pay thirty-eight cents less weekly for rent, and though this may seem a very small sum to the boys and girls who may read my story, it represented to the poor seamstress the proceeds of an entire day's work, beginning at early morning, and extending for fourteen hours. So, while Rough and Ready thought principally of his sister, it pleased him to feel that in benefiting her he was also benefiting the one who had agreed to take charge of her.

Then, as to himself, although he would pass his nights at the Lodging House, and eat breakfast there, once a day he would be at the little room in Franklin Street, and this would make him feel that he had some share in his sister's home.

He made his way to the offices of the evening papers, obtained a supply, and was soon busily engaged in disposing of them. While he is thus engaged, we must go back to Leonard Street, which the newsboy and his sister have left, as they hope, forever.