hat appellation in irony) the ghosts of many ancient boiled dinners met you with-if

erson's boarders headlong to the bottom at every downward trip, when the clang of the gong in the dining-room

just then Fred Crackit lounged out of the parlor, with Mr. Peebles following him

ou coming down to the usual fea

her a dissipated-looking man of thirty years or so, given to gay waistcoats and wonderfully knit ties. A brilliant a

nt any supper," respo

n as to what Mother Atterson has laid out for

speak of her, Mr. Crackit,

to the basement dining-room one after the other, and took t

was long, and low-ceiled, and the paper on the walls was a dingy red, so old that

and were grilled half way up by wrought-iron scree

le were the ugliest-Hiram was sure-to be found in all the city of Crawberry. The crockery was of th

e she made for her table-was very good. Only it had become a habit for ce

and sometimes, Hiram knew, she wept, alone in the dining

ual. He was a queer, colorless sort of person-a man who never looked into the face of another if he could help it. He would look all aro

ifficult sometimes for Hiram to know when he was being addr

n; I didn't spill any gravy at dinner-Nice day out, but raw-Goodness me! can't I have a knife and fork?-Where's my knife and

He went on muttering to himself, all through the meal, sometimes commenting upon what the others said at

of sugar. But although the fluid was utterly spoiled for Hiram's taste he drank it with fortitude, knowing that the girl's gen

in the dining-room, Hiram lingered. He hated the thought of goi

d Lem Camp being the last to go. Sister brought in a dish of hot toast between

se mistress. She had been crying, and when a woman of the age of Mrs.

rawled, with a snuffle. "

ned the youth, starting to

"And you're easy 'side of most of '

y for, Mrs. Atterson," s

is noon. That roast of veal was just as good meat as I could find in market; a

oarding house all my life. It's a than

t in the world-here's Uncle Jeptha down with the grip, or suthin', and goodness kn

politely, although he had no particular r

e most all his life. He used to make a right good liv

And now I expect he's dying, without a chick or child of his own by him," and she burst o

nd drinking strong boiled tea is not a romantic picture. But as Hiram climbe

to have got into a wrong environment-lots of peopl

e are," mused Hiram. "That's what I am. I wish