NGEL.

The ladies of the Tenement felt that it was a matter concerning the
reputation of the house. Therefore on this particular hot July morning
they were gathered in the apartment of Miss Mary Carew and Miss Norma
Bonkowski, if one small and dingy room may be so designated, and were
putting the matter under discussion.

Miss Carew, tall, bony, and more commonly known to the Tenement as Miss
C'rew, of somewhat tart and acrid temper, being pressed for her version
of the story, paused in her awkward and intent efforts at soothing the
beautiful, fair-haired child upon her lap and explained that she was
stepping out her door that morning with her water-bucket, thinking to
get breakfast ready before Miss Bonkowski awoke, when a child's
frightened crying startled her, coming from a room across the hall which
for some weeks had been for rent.

"At that," continued Miss Carew, moved to unwonted loquacity, and
patting the child industriously while she addressed the circle of
listening ladies, "at that, 'sure as life!' says I, and stepped across
and opened the door, an' there, settin' on this shawl, its eyes big like
it had jus' waked up, an' cryin' like to break its heart, was this here
baby. I picked her right up an' come an' woke Norma, but it's nothin' we
can make out, 'ceptin' she's been in that there room all night."

Many were the murmurs and ejaculations from the circle of wondering
ladies, while Miss Bonkowski, a frowzy-headed lady in soiled shirt waist
and shabby skirt, with a small waist and shoulders disproportionately
broad; and with, moreover, a dab of paint upon each high-boned
cheek,--nothing daunted by previous failures, leaned forward and putting
a somewhat soiled finger beneath the child's pretty chin, inquired
persuasively, "And isn't the darling going to tell its Norma its name?"

Miss Bonkowski spoke airily and as if delivering a part. But this the
good ladies forgave, for was not this same Miss Norma the flower that
shed an odor of distinction over the social blossoming of the whole
Tenement? Was not Miss Bonkowski a chorus lady at The Garden Opera
House?

So her audience looked on approvingly while Miss Norma snapped her
fingers and chirruped to the baby encouragingly. "And what is the
darling's name?" she repeated.

The little one, her pitiful sobbing momentarily arrested, regarded Miss
Bonkowski with grave wonder. "Didn't a know I are Angel?" she returned
in egotistical surprise.

"Sure an'