by she got to taking him up to her room. Now it's
none of my business to interfere with people's comings and goings in
this house, being as I'm only the janitress. I have my orders from the
boss--who's a real nice sort of man--to only rent rooms to respectable
people, and to put anybody out where I knows there's bad conduct going
on. He's strong on morals, the boss is. He used to be a saloon-keeper,
and the Salvation Army converted him; and then he sold out and went into
this business. He has this place, and then he has a boarding-house on
Second Avenue. These Germans are awful kind men, when they are kind, and
Mr. Schneider has did a lot of good. If any of his tenants get sick and
can't pay their rent, or if they get out of work, he don't bounce them
into the street, but he just tells them to stay on and pay him when they
get caught up; and would you believe it that he never loses a cent,
either!"

Here the woman stopped for breath, which gave me an opportunity to turn
the channel of her talk back to the girl from Connecticut.

"Well, I didn't have no right to tell the girl that she mustn't take her
gentleman friend to her room, because there ain't no law again it in
any light-housekeeping rooms. The people who live here are all
working-people and earn their livings; and they've got a right to do as
they please so they're quiet and respectable. But I took it on myself to
kind of let the girl understand that her beau would think more of her if
she just dropped him at the front door. A man 'll always pick a spunky,
independent girl that sort of keeps him at a stand-off every time,
anyway. She looked sort of miffed when I said this, and then I said that
she could set up with him any time she wanted in my sitting-room in the
basement, what is real comfortable furnished and pretty-looking--and
which you too is perfectly welcome to bring any gentleman company to any
time you've a mind.

"Well, she looked at me sort of scornful, and answered me real
peart-like, and said she guessed she could take care of herself. She
tossed her head in a pretty taking way she had, and walked down-stairs,
as though I had turribly insulted her; so what could I do?"

Again she paused, panting for breath in short, wheezy gasps.

"And what became of her at last?" I asked.

"What became of her!" she echoed. "What becomes of all of 'em?" and she
jerked her head significantly in the vague direction of the street. "She
left soon after that, tho