Danny replied. "But she don't dress grand--not so
grand as you."

The maid laughed at this, and then said: "Well, she has a right to dress
as she pleases, and go where she pleases, I suppose; but I don't know
what right she has to telegraph me to come down there with jelly and
wine and broth that you have in that bundle. I'll just tell her that I
ain't going to nurse any of her poor sick she's so fond of, if I have to
give up my place."

"Say, I guess she isn't tinkin' dat you won't nurse nobody," Danny said,
"because she'd get fooled, for I don't believe you'd know how."

"And I don't want to know how," snapped the maid.

When the Tenement Mission was reached Miss Barstow was not there, but a
note had been left for the maid directing her to come, with the
messenger, to an address which was given.

"Where is the place?" asked the maid, showing Danny the note.

"Oh, dat's a back tenement-house in Roosevelt Street," Danny answered.
"Dare is Italians dare," he added, for he knew the place well, his old
home with his uncle having been in the same block.

"Is it any worse than this?" the maid asked, in a voice which showed she
was getting frightened.

"Dis is Fift' Avenue compared to dat," Danny said.

The girl began to whimper, and said at last, "I won't go. I'm scared to
death already. I won't go to her nasty sick poor, and get the small-pox
and everything else."

At first Danny did not know what to do. He tried to persuade the maid to
go, but she was thoroughly frightened now, and half hysterical. Finally
Danny took up the bundle, saying: "Well, I'm going, anyway. If Miss
Barstow wants dese things she is goin' to have dem, and you can do what
you like. I don't tink you are much good except for show, anyhow."

"I'll stay here until some one comes and takes me home," cried the girl,
as Danny went out of the mission.

It was dark by this time, but Danny knew the way perfectly. He found the
low narrow entrance to the front tenement, went through that to a little
stone-paved court where there was one gas-lamp, and was crossing that
when a couple of men stopped him, and demanded roughly to know what he
had in the bundle.

"Never you mind," he answered. "It's for Miss Barstow, not for mugs like
you."

The men slunk away without any more threats. They were none too good,
but they, like nearly all the people in that neighborhood, had been won
to respect Miss Barstow, and anything which belonged to her was almost