Tattered Tom. Alger Horatio Jr.

of her own position, for she was beginning to feel hungry herself.

      There was a cheap restaurant near by, only a few blocks away.

      Tom knew it well, for she had often paused before the door and inhaled enviously the appetizing odor of the dishes which were there vended to patrons not over-fastidious, at prices accommodated to scantily lined pocket-books. Tom had never entered, but had been compelled to remain outside, wishing that a more propitious fortune had placed it in her power to dine there every day. Now, however, first thrusting her fingers into the lining of her jacket to make sure that the money was there, she boldly entered the restaurant and took a seat at one of the tables.

      The room was not large, there being only eight tables, each of which might accommodate four persons. The floor was sanded, the tables were some of them bare, others covered with old newspapers, which had become greasy, and were rather worse than no table-cloth at all. The guests, of whom perhaps a dozen were seated at the table, were undoubtedly plebeian. Men in shirt-sleeves, rough-bearded sailors and ’long-shore men, composed the company, with one ragged boot-black, who had his blacking-box on the seat beside him.

      It was an acquaintance of Tom, and she went and sat beside him.

      “Do you get dinner here, Jim?” she asked.

      “Yes, Tom; what brings you here?”

      “I’m hungry.”

      “Don’t you live along of your granny?”

      “Yes; but I thought I’d come here to-day. What have you got?”

      “Roast beef.”

      “Is it good?”

      “Bully!”

      “I’ll have some, then. How much is it?”

      “Ten cents.”

      Ten cents was the standard price in this economical restaurant for a plate of meat of whatever kind. Perhaps, considering the quality and amount given, it could not be regarded as very cheap; still the sum was small, and came within Tom’s means.

      A plate of beef was brought and placed before Tom. Her eyes dilated with pleasure as they rested on the delicious morsel. There was a potato besides; and a triangular slice of bread, with an infinitesimal dab of butter,—all for ten cents. But Tom’s ambition soared higher.

      “Bring me a cup o’ coffee,” she said to the waiter.

      It was brought,—a very dark, muddy, suspicious-looking beverage,—a base libel upon the fragrant berry whose name it took; but such a thought did not disturb Tom. She never doubted that it was what it purported to be. She stirred it vigorously with the spoon, and sipped it as if it had been nectar.

      “Aint it prime just?” she exclaimed, smacking her lips.

      Then ensued a vigorous onslaught upon the roast beef. It was the first meat Tom had tasted for weeks, with the exception of occasional cold sausage; and she was in the seventh heaven of delight as she hurriedly ate it. When she had finished, the plate was literally and entirely empty. Tom did not believe in leaving anything behind. She was almost tempted to “lick the platter clean,” but observed that none of the other guests did so, and refrained.

      “Bring me a piece of apple pie,” said Tom, determined for once to have what she denominated a “good square meal.” The price of the pie being five cents, this would just exhaust her funds. Payment was demanded when the pie was brought, the prudent waiter having some fears that his customer was eating beyond her means.

      Tom paid the money, and, vigorously attacking the pie, had almost finished it, when, chancing to lift her eyes to the window, she saw a sight that made her blood curdle.

      Looking through the pane with a stony glare that meant mischief was her granny, whom she had supposed safe at home.

      CHAPTER III

      CAUGHT IN THE ACT

      It was Tom’s ill luck that brought granny upon the scene, contrary to every reasonable expectation. After smoking out her pipe, she made up her mind to try another smoke, when she found that her stock of tobacco was exhausted. Being constitutionally lazy, it was some minutes before she made up her mind to go out and lay in a fresh supply. Finally she decided, and made her way downstairs to the court, and thence to the street.

      Tim saw her, and volunteered the information, “Tom gave me some bread.”

      “When?” demanded granny.

      “When she come out just now.”

      “What did she do that for?”

      “She said she wasn’t hungry.”

      The old woman was puzzled. Tom’s appetite was usually quite equal to the supply of food which she got. Could Tom have secreted some money to buy apples? This was hardly likely, since she had carefully searched her. Besides, Tom had returned the usual amount. Still, granny’s suspicions were awakened, and she determined to question Tom when she returned at the close of the afternoon.

      The tobacco shop where granny obtained her tobacco was two doors beyond the restaurant where Tom was then enjoying her cheap dinner with a zest which the guests at Delmonico’s do not often bring to the discussion of their more aristocratic viands. It was only a chance that led granny, as she passed, to look in; but that glance took in all who were seated at the tables, including Tom.

      Had granny received an invitation to preside at a meeting in the Cooper Institute, she would hardly have been more surprised than at the sight of Tom, perfidiously enjoying a meal out of money from which she had doubtless been defrauded.

      “The owdacious young reprobate!” muttered the old woman, glaring fiercely at her unconscious victim.

      But Tom just then happened to look up, as we have seen. Her heart gave a sudden thump, and she said to herself, “I’m in for a lickin’, that’s so. Granny’s mad as blazes.”

      The old woman did not long leave her in doubt as to the state of her feelings.

      She strode into the eating-house, and, advancing to the table, seized Tom by the arm.

      “What are you here for?” she growled, in a hoarse voice.

      “To get some dinner,” said Tom.

      By this time she had recovered from her temporary panic. She had courage and pluck, and was toughened by the hard life she had led into a stoical endurance of the evils from which she could not escape.

      “What business had you to come?”

      “I was hungry.”

      “Didn’t I give you a piece of bread?”

      “I didn’t like it.”

      “What did you buy?”

      “A plate of beef, a cup o’ coffee, and some pie. Better buy some, granny. They’re bully.”

      “You’re a reg’lar bad un. You’ll fetch up on the gallus,” said granny, provoked at Tom’s coolness.

      So saying, she seized Tom by the shoulder roughly. But by this time the keeper of the restaurant thought fit to interfere.

      “We can’t have any disturbance here, ma’am,” he said. “You must leave the room.”

      “She had no right to get dinner here,” said granny. “I won’t let her pay for it.”

      “She has paid for it already.”

      “Is that so?” demanded the old woman, disappointed.

      Tom nodded, glad to have outwitted her guardian.

      “It was my money. You stole it.”

      “No it wa’n’t. A gentleman give it to me for callin’ me names.”

      “Come out of here!” said granny, jerking Tom from her chair. “Don’t you let her have no more to eat here,” she added, turning to the keeper of the restaurant.

      “She can eat here whenever she’s got money to pay for it.”

      Rather