"I should s'pose he might have driv right up, instead of leaving me here," she said, looking wistfully at the retreating car, which now seemed almost like home. "Coats, and trousers, and jackets! I wonder if there is nothing else to be seen here," she continued, as her eye caught the long line of clothing so conspicuously displayed in that part of the Bowery. "'Tain't no great shakes," was the feeling struggling into Aunt Betsy's mind, as with Tom's outline map in hand she peered at the numbers of the doors, finding the right one at last, and ringing the bell with a force which brought Mattie at once to the rescue. If Mattie was not glad to see her guest, she seemed to be, which answered every purpose for the tired woman, who followed her into the dark, narrow hall, filled with the sickly odor of the kitchen, and up the narrow stairs, through a still darker hall, and into the front parlor, which looked out upon the Bowery. This was comparatively comfortable, for there was a fire in the stove, and the carpet the same which Aunt Betsy remembered to have seen in Mrs. Tubbs' best room at Silverton. But the diminutive dimensions of the apartment struck her at once, and she mentally decided that it must be the "libry." But, alas! the so-called "library" was a large-sized closet, or single room, at the other end of the hall, and now used as an _omnium gatherum_ for the various articles Mrs. Tubbs found necessary for her "back parlor," or dining-room, where the table was set cornerwise, its soiled linen and dingy napkins presenting a striking contrast to the snowy cloth which always covered the table at the farmhouse, while the dry, baker's bread, and the frowsy butter were almost more than Aunt Betsy could swallow, hungry as she was.