CHAPTER TENTH.

THE NEW HOME.

Mrs. Wentworth followed the boy till he arrived in front of series of wretched looking rooms, situated on one of the miserable lanes with which Jackson abounds.  Stopping in front of one of them, he pointed to it, and with no other words than “Dem is de room, ma’m,” walked off.  Taking the key, which Mr. Elder had previously given her, she opened the door and entered.

Mrs. Wentworth’s heart sank within her as she viewed the wretched looking apartment.  The interior of the room was exceedingly dirty, while the faded paper, which once gaudily adorned it, now hung in shreds from the walls.  The fireplace was broken up, and disgusting words were written in every part of the room.  It had been, in fact, the lodging of a woman of dissolute character, who had been accustomed to gather a crowd of debauched characters in her apartment nightly, but who, from a failure to pay her rent, had been turned out by Mr. Elder.  The other apartments were still occupied by abandoned women; but of this fact Mrs. Wentworth was not aware.

As she looked at the room a feeling of indescribable sadness crept over her, and a sigh of bitterness burst from her throbbing bosom.  It was, however, not to be helped; she had already paid the rent, and was compelled to keep it for the month.  Sadly she left the room, and locking it after her, repaired to a store to purchase a few necessary articles of furniture.

On entering a store, the first person she saw was Mr. Swartz, who had, by this time, risen from the lowly position of a grocer to that of a “General wholesale and retail merchant,” as the sign over his door very pompously announced.

Mr. Swartz remained on his seat at her entrance, barely raising his eyes to sec who had entered.  She stood for a few moments, when, seeing that no one appeared to notice her presence, she walked up to him and informed him that she wished to purchase a few pieces of furniture.

“Vot kind do you vant?” he inquired, without moving from his seat.

“A small bedstead, three or four chairs, a table and a washstand,” she answered.

“Look at them and see vich you like te best,” he said, “and I vill tell you te brice.”

After a little search, Mrs. Wentworth selected the plainest and most homely she could find of all the articles she desired, and, turning to him, inquired what the price would be.

“Te pedstead is forty tollars; te chairs is three tollars apiece; te taple is twenty tollars; and to washstand is fourteen,” he replied.

“And how much will that amount to, altogether?” she asked.

“Eighty-six tollars,” he responded.

“Can you take no less, sir?” she asked.

“No, ma’am,” he answered.  “I have put one brice, and if you don’t vant to pay it you can leave it.”

Taking out the desired amount, she paid him without making any further remark, and requested that they would be sent after her.  Calling a drayman, Mr. Swartz told him to follow her with the furniture, and he returned to his seat, satisfied with having made sixty dollars on the eighty-six, received from Mrs. Wentworth, the furniture having been bought at sheriff’s sale for a mere trifle.