Tattered Tom

“Bring me a piece of apple pie,” said Tom, determined for once to have what she denominated a “good square meal.” The price of the pie being five cents, this would just exhaust her funds. Payment was demanded when the pie was brought, the prudent waiter having some fears that his customer was eating beyond her means.

Tom paid the money, and, vigorously attacking the pie, had almost finished it, when, chancing to lift her eyes to the window, she saw a sight that made her blood curdle.

Looking through the pane with a stony glare that meant mischief was her granny, whom she had supposed safe at home.

CHAPTER III

CAUGHT IN THE ACT

It was Tom’s ill luck that brought granny upon the scene, contrary to every reasonable expectation. After smoking out her pipe, she made up her mind to try another smoke, when she found that her stock of tobacco was exhausted. Being constitutionally lazy, it was some minutes before she made up her mind to go out and lay in a fresh supply. Finally she decided, and made her way downstairs to the court, and thence to the street.

Tim saw her, and volunteered the information, “Tom gave me some bread.”

“When?” demanded granny.

“When she come out just now.”

“What did she do that for?”

“She said she wasn’t hungry.”

The old woman was puzzled. Tom’s appetite was usually quite equal to the supply of food which she got. Could Tom have secreted some money to buy apples? This was hardly likely, since she had carefully searched her. Besides, Tom had returned the usual amount. Still, granny’s suspicions were awakened, and she determined to question Tom when she returned at the close of the afternoon.

The tobacco shop where granny obtained her tobacco was two doors beyond the restaurant where Tom was then enjoying her cheap dinner with a zest which the guests at Delmonico’s do not often bring to the discussion of their more aristocratic viands. It was only a chance that led granny, as she passed, to look in; but that glance took in all who were seated at the tables, including Tom.

Had granny received an invitation to preside at a meeting in the Cooper Institute, she would hardly have been more surprised than at the sight of Tom, perfidiously enjoying a meal out of money from which she had doubtless been defrauded.

“The owdacious young reprobate!” muttered the old woman, glaring fiercely at her unconscious victim.

But Tom just then happened to look up, as we have seen. Her heart gave a sudden thump, and she said to herself, “I’m in for a lickin’, that’s so. Granny’s mad as blazes.”

The old woman did not long leave her in doubt as to the state of her feelings.

She strode into the eating-house, and, advancing to the table, seized Tom by the arm.

“What are you here for?” she growled, in a hoarse voice.

“To get some dinner,” said Tom.

By this time she had recovered from her temporary panic. She had courage and pluck, and was toughened by the hard life she had led into a stoical endurance of the evils from which she could not escape.

“What business had you to come?”

“I was hungry.”

“Didn’t I give you a piece of bread?”

“I didn’t like it.”

“What did you buy?”

“A plate of beef, a cup o’ coffee, and some pie. Better buy some, granny. They’re bully.”

“You’re a reg’lar bad un. You’ll fetch up on the gallus,” said granny, provoked at Tom’s coolness.

So saying, she seized Tom by the shoulder roughly. But by this time the keeper of the restaurant thought fit to interfere.

“We can’t have any disturbance here, ma’am,” he said. “You must leave the room.”

“She had no right to get dinner here,” said granny. “I won’t let her pay for it.”

“She has paid for it already.”

“Is that so?” demanded the old woman, disappointed.

Tom nodded, glad to have outwitted her guardian.

“It was my money. You stole it.”

“No it wa’n’t. A gentleman give it to me for callin’ me names.”

“Come out of here!” said granny, jerking Tom from her chair. “Don’t you let her have no more to eat here,” she added, turning to the keeper of the restaurant.

“She can eat here whenever she’s got money to pay for it.”

Rather disgusted at her failure to impress the keeper of the restaurant with her views in the matter, granny emerged into the street with Tom in her clutches.

She gave her a vigorous shaking up on the sidewalk.

“How do you like that?” she demanded.

“I wish I was as big as you!” said Tom, indignantly.

“Well, what if you was?” demanded the old woman, pausing in her punishment, and glaring at Tom.

“I’d make your nose bleed,” said Tom, doubling up her fist.

“You would, would you?” said granny, fiercely. “Then it’s lucky you aint;” and she gave her another shake.

“Where are you going to take me?” asked Tom.

“Home. I’ll lock you up for a week, and give you nothin’ to eat but bread once a day.”

“All right!” said Tom. “If I’m locked up at home, I can’t bring you any money.”

This consideration had not at first suggested itself to the vindictive old woman. It would cut off all her revenue to punish Tom as she proposed; and this would be far from convenient. But anger was more powerful just then than policy; and she determined at all events to convey Tom home, and give her a flogging, before sending her out into the street to resume her labors.

She strode along, dragging Tom by the arm; and not another word was spoken till they reached the rear tenement house.