Tattered Tom

Fatigued with her exercise and excitement, the old woman threw herself down on her rude pallet, first drawing the contents of a jug which stood in the closet, and was soon in a drunken sleep. Leaving her thus, we go back to Tom.

She had made up her mind not to go back to sweeping the streets; partly, indeed, because she no longer had her broom with her. Moreover, she thought that she would in that case be more likely to fall into the clutches of the enemy she so much dreaded. With the capital for which she was indebted to her new boy acquaintance she decided to lay in a supply of evening papers, and try to dispose of them. It was not a new trade to her; for there was scarcely one of the street trades in which the young Arab had not more or less experience.

She bought ten copies of the “Express,” and selected the corner of two streets for the disposal of her stock in trade.

“Here’s the ‘Express,’—latest news from the seat of war!” cried Tom; catching the cry from a boy engaged in the same business up on Broadway.

“What’s the news?” asked one of two young men who were passing.

“The news is that you’re drafted,” said Tom, promptly. “Buy the paper, and you’ll find out all about it.”

It was in the midst of the draft excitement in New York; and as it so happened that the young man had actually been drafted, his companion laughed.

“You must buy a paper for that, Jack,” he said.

“I believe I will,” said the first, laughing. “Here’s ten cents. Never mind about the change.”

“Thank you,” said Tom. “Come round to-morrow, and I’ll sell you another.”

“You’ll have me drafted again, I am afraid. Perhaps you will go as my substitute?”

“I would if I was old enough,” said Tom.

“You’re a girl,—aint you? Girls can’t fight.”

“Try me and see,” said Tom. “I can fight any boy of my size.”

The two young men passed on, laughing.

Tom soon had an opportunity to test her prowess. The corner where she had stationed herself was usually occupied by a boy somewhat larger than Tom, who considered that it belonged to him by right. He came up rather late, having a chance to carry a carpet-bag for a guest at French’s Hotel to the Hudson River station. Tom had disposed of half her papers when he came blustering up:—

“Clear out of here!” he said, imperiously.

“Who was you speakin’ to?” asked Tom, coolly.

“To you. Just clear out!”

“What for?” asked Tom.

“You’ve got my stand.”

“Have I?” said Tom, not offering to move.

“Yes, you have.”

“Then I’m goin’ to keep it. ’Ere’s the ‘Express,’—latest news from the seat of war.”

“Look here!” said the newsboy, menacingly, “if you don’t clear out, I’ll make you.”

“Will you?” said Tom, independently, taking his measure, and deciding that she could fight him. “I aint afraid of you!”

Her rival advanced, and gave her a push which nearly thrust her from the sidewalk into the street. But he was rather astonished the next moment at receiving a blow in the face from Tom’s fist.

“If you want to fight, come on!” said Tom, dropping her papers and squaring off.

He was not slow in accepting the defiance, being provoked by the unexpected blow, and aimed a blow at Tom’s nose. But Tom, who had some rudimental ideas of boxing, while her opponent knew nothing of it, fended off the blow, and succeeded in getting in another.

“Ho! ho!” laughed another boy, who had just come up; “you’re licked by a gal.”

Bob, for this was the newsboy’s name, felt all the disgrace of the situation. His face reddened, and he pitched in promiscuously, delivering blow after blow wildly. This gave a decided advantage to Tom, who inflicted considerably more damage than she received.

The fight would have gone on longer if a gentleman had not come up, and spoken authoritatively: “What is all this fighting about? Are you not ashamed to fight with a girl?”

“No, I aint,” said Bob, sullenly. “She took my place, and wouldn’t give it up.”

“Is that true?” turning to Tom.

“I’ve got as much right to it as he,” said Tom. “I’ll give it to him if I am a gal.”

“Don’t you know it is wrong to fight?” asked the gentleman, this time addressing Tom.

“No, I don’t,” said Tom. “Wouldn’t you fight if a feller pitched into you?”

This was rather an embarrassing question, but the gentleman said, “It would be better to go away than to get into a fight.”

“He fit me.”

“It is bad enough for boys to fight, but it is worse for girls.”

“Don’t see it,” said Tom.

Had Tom been in a higher social position, it might have been suggested to her that to fight was not ladylike; but there was such an incongruity between Tom’s appearance and anything lady-like, that such an appeal would have been out of place. The fact is, Tom claimed no immunity or privilege on the score of sex, but regarded herself, to all intents and purposes, as a boy, and strongly wished that she were one.

The gentleman looked at her, rather puzzled, and walked away, satisfied with having stopped the fight.

Bob did not seem inclined to renew hostilities, but crossed the street, and took his stand there. Tom, by right of conquest, held her place until she had sold out her whole stock of papers.

CHAPTER VI

AN UNFASHIONABLE HOTEL

Tom found at the end of the afternoon that her capital had increased from twenty-five to fifty cents.

“Granny won’t get none of this,” she soliloquized, complacently. “It’s all mine.”

Sitting on a doorstep she counted over the money with an entirely different feeling from what she had experienced when it was to be transferred to granny. Now it was all her own, and, though but fifty cents, it made her feel rich.

“What shall I do with it?” thought Tom.