Tattered Tom; or, The Story of a Street Arab

by Jr. Horatio Alger

At the next house she got no money; but on declaring that she had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, was invited into the kitchen, where she was offered a chair, and a plate of meat and bread was placed before her. This invitation was rather an embarrassing one; for, thanks to her charitable neighbor, granny had eaten quite a hearty breakfast not long before. But, having declared that she had not tasted food for twenty-four hours, she was compelled to keep up appearances, and eat what was set before her. It was very hard work, and attracted the attention of the servants, who had supposed her half famished.

“You don’t seem very hungry,” said Annie, the cook.

“It’s because I’m faint-like,” muttered granny. At this moment her bag, containing the loaf of bread, tumbled on the floor.

“What’s that?” asked the cook, suspiciously.

“It’s some bread I’m goin’ to carry home to the childers,” said Mrs. Walsh, a little confused. “They was crying for something to ate when I come away.”

“Then you’d better take it home as soon as you can,” said Annie, surveying the old woman with some suspicion.

Granny was forced to leave something on her plate, nature refusing the double burden she sought to impose upon it, and went out with an uncomfortable sense of fulness. Resuming her rounds, she was repulsed at some places, at others referred to this or that charitable society, but in the end succeeded in raising twenty-five cents more in money. Fifty cents, a loaf of bread, and a little cold meat represented her gains of the morning, and with these she felt tolerably well satisfied. She had been compelled to walk up town, but now she had money and could afford to ride. She entered a Sixth Avenue car, therefore, and in half an hour or thereabouts reached the Astor House. She walked through the Park, looking about her carefully, in the hope of seeing Tom, who would certainly have fared badly if she had fallen into the clutches of the angry old woman. But Tom was nowhere visible.

So granny plodded home, and, mounting to her room, laid away the bread and meat, and, throwing herself upon the bed, indulged in a pipe. Tom was not at home, and granny began to have apprehensions that she meant to stay away longer than she had at first supposed.

“But I’ll come across her some day,” said granny, vindictively. “When I do I’ll break every bone in her body.”

The old woman lay on the bed two or three hours, and then went out, with the double purpose of investing a part of her funds in a glass of something strong, and in the hope that she might fall in with Tom. Notwithstanding the desire of vengeance, she missed her. She had not the slightest affection for the young girl who had been so long her charge, but she was used to her companionship. It seemed lonely without her. Besides, granny had one of those uncomfortable dispositions that feel lost without some one to scold and tyrannize over, and, although Tom had not been so yielding and submissive as many girls would have been under the same circumstances, Mrs. Walsh had had the satisfaction of beating her occasionally, and naturally longed for the presence of her customary victim.