"Well, you have one," returned Phil, leading the way downstairs.
"But I'm strong, too. You've heard about the woman that carried the calf uphill every day till it was a cow? I've had Pluto ever since his eyes was open."
"Well, you'd need some hill-climbing with him to fit you for taking the elevated."
"Yes, I did some dread those steps. It's certainly clever of you, Mr. Sidney. They say the lame and the lazy are always provided for."
Thus Eliza Brewster left her home of years. She gave the key to the janitor and went out into the dull, damp November afternoon with her strong escort, whose good cheer again impressed her consciousness as a wonderful thing to have any relation to her own life.
"You've learned your way around real quick," said Eliza as they plunged into the nearest subway station.
"This is all bluff, Eliza, and you're the most trustful woman in the world. I want to go somewhere near Gramercy Park; but if we come out at Harlem I shall try to look as if I lived there."
"Gramercy Park!" exclaimed Eliza; and she thought—"Well, at that rate, Mrs. Ballard's money won't last long."
"I didn't know," she said aloud, "as you'd feel like gettin' a room in a real fashionable neighborhood."
"I'll bet," she thought acutely, "that's Mrs. Fabian's doin's."