"There isn't much chance of that, Dan, unless we earn more than we do now."
"You are right there. Well, I suppose there is no use thinking of it. By the way, mother, you've got enough money on hand to pay the rent to-morrow, haven't you?"
"Yes, Dan, and a dollar over."
"That's good."
The door of the room was partly open, and the last part of the conversation was heard by Mike Rafferty, the son of the tenant who occupied the room just over the Mordaunts. He was a ne'er-do-well, who had passed more than one term of imprisonment at Blackwell's Island. His mother was an honest, hard-working washerwoman, who toiled early and late to support herself and her three children. Mike might have given her such assistance that she could have lived quite comfortably, for her own earnings were by no means inconsiderable. Her wash-tub paid her much more than Mrs. Mordaunts needle could possibly win, and she averaged a dollar a day where her more refined neighbor made but twenty-five cents. But Mike, instead of helping, was an additional burden. He got his meals regularly at home, but contributed scarcely a dollar a month to the common expenses. He was a selfish rowdy, who was likely to belong permanently to the shiftless and dangerous classes of society.
Mike had from time to time made approaches to intimacy with Dan, who was nearly two years younger, but Dan despised him for his selfishly burdening his mother with his support, and didn't encourage him. Naturally, Mike hated Dan, and pronounced him "stuck up" and proud, though our hero associated familiarly with more than one boy ranking no higher in the social scale than Mike Rafferty.
Only the day before, Mike, finding himself out of funds, encountering Dan on the stairs, asked for the loan of a quarter.
"I have no money to spare," answered Dan.
"You've got money, Dan; I saw you take out some a minute ago."
"Yes, I've got the money, but I won't lend it."