“No. Mother was with us up to last winter, but she had consumption and died.”
The tears stood in Nellie Ardell’s eyes as she spoke. Jerry saw at once that she had had a hard struggle of it.
“What do you do for a living?” he ventured to ask.
“I do sewing and mending for my neighbors—principally mending for the girls who work in the stores.”
“And can you make much that way?”
“Not a great deal. But I try to make enough to pay the rent and store bills. May I ask what you are going to do in New York?”
“I came to find a real estate dealer named Alexander Slocum. I want to see him about some property left by my uncle to my father. Have you ever heard of him?”
“Heard of him?” she cried in surprise. “He is my landlord.”
Jerry was dumfounded by this unexpected bit of information.
“You are certain?”