CHAPTER XXII.
LOOKING FOR A PLACE.
“Oh, dear, oh, dear, I am so tired, and here I’ve traveled all day, and my feet are so sore that I can hardly step at all.”
“What is the matter, and what is your name?”
“Well, the matter is that I am just tired to death, and my name is Mrs. Morris.”
The lady who asked the question smiled and drew nearer to the woman, who had taken a seat on the steps of her neat residence. It certainly was no very uncommon thing to find a tired old lady in the streets of New York, but there was something in the appearance of the old lady which attracted the attention of the young and beautiful woman in the doorway.
“Oh, dear; oh, dear,” she sighed again, and then the tears began to drop slowly upon the bundle she held in her lap.
She was dressed in a plain brown wool dress, and a black shawl and bonnet. She had a sweet, pleasant face, and it was that which caused the young lady to pause and take the second look, and to ask the cause of her trouble.
“If I only had a cup o’ tea,” the old lady said, “I 153 could go on better, but my money is well nigh gone, and I can’t afford it.”