g at the edge of the precipice. And what hope was
there that she would get back to firm ground? Certainly not by
"honest labor." Back to the tenement! "Yes, I'm on the way
back," she said to herself. However, she pulled the loose
bell-knob and was admitted to a dingy, dusty hallway by a maid
so redolent of stale perspiration that it was noticeable even
in the hall's strong saturation of smells of cheap cookery.
The parlor furniture was rapidly going to pieces; the chromos
and prints hung crazily awry; dust lay thick upon the center
table, upon the chimney-piece, upon the picture frames, upon
the carving in the rickety old chairs. Only by standing did
Susan avoid service as a dust rag. It was typical of the
profound discouragement that blights or blasts all but a small
area of our modern civilization--a discouragement due in part
to ignorance--but not at all to the cause usually assigned--to
"natural shiftlessness." It is chiefly due to an unconscious
instinctive feeling of the hopelessness of the average lot.

While Susan explained to Mrs. Tucker how she had come and what
she could afford, she examined her with results far from
disagreeable. One glance into that homely wrinkled face was
enough to convince anyone of her goodness of heart--and to
Susan in those days of aloneness, of uncertainty, of the
feeling of hopelessness, goodness of heart seemed the supreme
charm. Such a woman as a landlady, and a landlady in New York,
was pathetically absurd. Even to still rather simple-minded
Susan she seemed an invitation to the swindler, to the sponger
with the hard-luck story, to the sinking who clutch about
desperately and drag down with them everyone who permits them
to get a hold.

"I've only got one room," said Mrs. Tucker. "That's not any
too nice. I did rather calculate to get five a week for it,
but you are the kind I like to have in the house. So if you
want it I'll let it to you for fourteen a month. And I do hope
you'll pay as steady as you can. There's so many in such hard
lines that I have a tough time with my rent. I've got to pay
my rent, you know."

"I'll go as soon as I can't pay," replied Susan. The
landlady's apologetic tone made her sick at heart, as a
sensitive human being must ever feel in the presence of a
fellow-being doomed to disaster.

"Thank you," said Mrs. Tucker gratefully. "I do wish----" She
checked herself. "No, I don't mean that. They do the best they
can--and I'll