Tommy rushed for his hat, and together they started down the stairs. Reaching the steps, Dorothy looked about for some sign of Tommy’s father, but he must have been seated on another porch for the breath of air he was after; the only thing on the front steps was Tommy’s yellow dog.
“Did you see my father?” said the boy to the dog. The dog jumped about madly, licking Tommy’s face and hands and barking short, joyful doggie greetings. “He’s seen him, all right,” said Tommy.
“Did he go to the grocer’s?” he asked of the dog. In answer the dog’s ears and tail drooped sadly, and he licked Tommy’s hand with less joyfulness.
“No,” said little Tommy, “he ain’t gone to the grocer’s, he’s always looking for work now, he says.”
“I’ll see if I can bring him back,” volunteered Dorothy.
The evening crowd on Rivington Street was pouring out of the doorways, bitter cold did not seem to prevent social gatherings on the corners, and the small shops were filled to overflowing with loungers. A mission meeting was in progress on one of the corners, as Dorothy hurried on, and a sweet, girlish voice was exhorting the shivering crowd to repent and mend their ways.
CHAPTER XXIV
A YOUNG REFORMER
Close in the wake of Tommy’s father, now returning, came Dorothy. A large automobile stood before one of the rickety buildings, and Dorothy just caught sight of a great fur coat and gray hair, as the owner of the car came from the building. It was Mr. Akerson! His chauffeur opened the door of the car, touched his cap, and the auto made its way slowly through the street.
“There’s the rent collector,” she heard a small girl say, as she watched the automobile out of sight. “Ain’t he grand!”
Dorothy wondered, with a shudder, how any one could come among these people and take their money from them, for housing them in such quarters!