Tattered Tom

“Then here’s some.”

The boy drew from his vest-pocket twenty-five cents, and offered it to Tom.

The young Arab felt no delicacy in accepting the pecuniary aid thus tendered.

“Thank you,” said she. “You can call me names if you want to.”

“What should I want to call you names for?” asked the boy, puzzled.

“There was a gent called me names this mornin’, and give me twenty cents for doin’ it.”

“What did he call you?”

“I dunno; but it must have been something awful bad, it was so long.”

“You’re a strange girl, Tom.”

“Am I? Well, I reckon I am. What’s your name?”

“John Goodwin.”

“John Goodwin?” repeated Tom, by way of fixing it in her memory.

“Yes; haven’t you got any other name than Tom?”

“I dunno. I think granny called me Jane once. But it’s a good while ago. Everybody calls me Tom, now.”

“Well, Tom, I must be getting back to the store. Good-by. I hope you’ll get along.”

“All right!” said Tom. “I’m goin’ into business with that money you give me.”

CHAPTER V

TOM GAINS A VICTORY

Granny mounted the stairs two at a time; so eager was she to force a surrender on the part of the rebellious Tom. She was a little out of breath when she reached the fourth landing, and paused an instant to recover it. Tom was at that moment half-way down the rope; but this she did not suspect.

Recovering her breath, she strode to the door. Before making an assault with the hatchet, she decided to summon Tom to a surrender.

“Tom!” she called out.

Of course there was no answer.

“Why don’t you answer?” demanded granny, provoked.

She listened for a reply, but Tom remained obstinately silent, as she interpreted it.

“If you don’t speak, it’ll be the wuss for ye,” growled granny.

Again no answer.

“I’ll find a way to make you speak. Come and open the door, or I’ll break it down. I’ve got a hatchet.”

But the old woman had the conversation all to herself.

Quite beside herself now with anger, she no longer hesitated; but with all her force dealt a blow which buried the hatchet deep in the door.

“Jest wait till I get in!” she muttered. “Will ye open it now?”

But there was no response.

While she was still battering at the door one of the neighbors came up from below.

“What are you doin’, Mrs. Walsh?” for such was granny’s name.

“I’m tryin’ to get in.”

“Why don’t you open the door?”

“Tom’s locked it. She won’t let me in,” said granny, finishing the sentence with a string of profane words which had best be omitted.

“You’ll have a good bill to pay to the landlord, Mrs. Walsh.”

“I don’t care,” said granny. “I’m goin’ to get at that trollop, and beat her within an inch of her life.”

Another vigorous blow broke the lock, and the door flew open.

Granny rushed in, after the manner of a devouring lion ready to pounce upon her prey. But she stopped short in dismay. Tom was not visible!

Thinking she might be in the closet, the old woman flung open the door: but again she was balked.

“What has ’come of the child?” she exclaimed, in bewilderment.

“She got out of the window,” said the neighbor, who had caught sight of the rope dangling from the open casement.

Granny hastened to the window, and the truth flashed upon her. Her prey had escaped her!

It was a deep disappointment to the vindictive old woman, whose hand itched to exercise itself in punishing Tom.

“She’s a bold un,” said the neighbor, with some admiration of Tom’s pluck.

Granny answered with a strain of invective, which gave partial vent to the rage and disappointment she felt.

“If I could only get at her!” she muttered between her teeth; “I’d give her half-a-dozen lickin’s in one. She’d wish she hadn’t done it.”

Not a doubt entered granny’s mind that Tom would return. It never occurred to her that her young servant had become tired of her bondage, and had already made up her mind to break her chains. She knew Tom pretty well, but not wholly. She did not realize that the days of her rule were at an end; and that by her tyranny she had driven from her the girl whose earnings she had found so convenient.

If there had been much chance of meeting Tom outside, granny would have gone out into the streets and hunted for her. But to search for her among the numerous streets, lanes, and alleys in the lower part of the city would have been like trying to find a needle in a haystack. Then, even if she found her, she could not very well whip her in the street. Tom would probably come home at night as usual, bringing money, and she could defer the punishment till then.