ty and not at all refined, or else you've got to
live in a house where everything goes. You want to live
respectable, I judge?"

"Yes."

"That's the way with me. Do what you please, _I_ say, but for
_God's sake_, don't make yourself _common!_ You'll want to be
free to have your gentlemen friends come--and at the same time
a room you'll not be ashamed for 'em to see on account of dirt
and smells and common people around."

"I shan't want to see anyone in my room."

The young woman winced, then went on with hasty enthusiasm.

"I knew you were refined the minute I looked at you. I think
you might get a room in the house of a lady friend of mine--Mrs.
Tucker, up in Clinton Place near University Place--an
elegant neighborhood--that is, the north side of the street.
The south side's kind o' low, on account of dagoes having
moved in there. They live like vermin--but then all tenement
people do."

"They've got to," said Susan.

"Yes, that's a fact. Ain't it awful? I'll write down the name
and address of my lady friend. I'm Miss Mary Hinkle."

"My name is Lorna Sackville," said Susan, in response to the
expectant look of Miss Hinkle.

"My, what a swell name! You've been sick, haven't you?"

"No, I'm never sick."

"Me too. My mother taught me to stop eating as soon as I felt
bad, and not to eat again till I was all right."

"I do that, too," said Susan. "Is it good for the health?"

"It starves the doctors. You've never worked before?"

"Oh, yes--I've worked in a factory."

Miss Hinkle looked disappointed. Then she gave Susan a side
glance of incredulity. "I'd never, a' thought it. But I can
see you weren't brought up to that. I'll write the address."
And she went back through the showroom, presently to reappear
with a card which she gave Susan. "You'll find Mrs. Tucker a
perfect lady--too much a lady to get on. I tell her she'll go
to ruin--and she will."

Susan thanked Miss Hinkle and departed. A few minutes' walk
brought her to the old, high-stooped, brown-stone where Mrs.
Tucker lived. The dents, scratches and old paint scales on the
door, the dust-streaked windows, the slovenly hang of the
imitation lace window curtains proclaimed the cheap
middle-class lodging or boarding house of the humblest grade.
Respectable undoubtedly; for the fitfully prosperous
offenders against laws and morals insist upon better
accommodations. Susan's heart sank. She saw that once more she
was clingin