friendliness she turned and outstretched her hand—I was a stranger and this was her welcome.
I had proved a point at the first step; help had been extended. If I myself failed to find shelter I could go to her for protection. I intended to find my lodging place if possible without any reference or any aid.
Out of the town proper in a quiet side street I saw a little wooden tenement set back from the road.
"Furnished Room to Rent," read the sign in the window. A sweet-faced woman responded to the bell I had rung. One glance at me and she said:
"Ve only got a 'sheep' room."
At the compliment I was ill-pleased and told her I was looking for a cheap room: I had come to Lynn to work. Oh! that was all right. That was the kind of people she received.
I followed her into the house. I must excuse her broken English. She was French. Ah! was she? That made my way easier. I told her I was from Paris and a stranger in this part of the country, and thenceforth our understanding was complete. In 28 Viger Street we spoke French always.
My room in the attic was blue-and-white papered; a little, clean, agreeable room.
Madam begged that I would pardon the fact that my bed had no sheets. She would try to arrange later. She also insinuated that the "young ladies" who boarded with her spoiled all her floor and her
furniture by slopping the water around. I assured her that she should not have to complain of me—I would take care.