My going to live in the tenements came about in a roundabout way. While existing in the Jane Leonard I let it be known that I was looking for a small flat in a tenement. The only one offered me was that of a young artist who had been called to Washington City by the government. It was in a “model tenement,” had two rooms, a kitchen, electric lights, gas for cooking, steam-heat, hot and cold water, and the windows of the comfortably large living-room overlooked East River and Blackwell’s Island. “What more can you expect for the money?” Miss Stafford, who had learned of the place and insisted on taking me to see it, exclaimed pettishly when told that it was not what I wanted. “Five dollars and twenty cents a week! It really is remarkable. The furniture is fit for Fifth Avenue, real antique. They say Mr. Howard spent thousands furnishing it. On account of the river view, you know.” She lifted a window and with a flourish of her chubby hand indicated the sluggishly flowing river. And with another flourish the almshouse on Blackwell’s Island. “The house is so well kept,” she assured me, as she turned from the window. “Such nice people live here. The agent is a lady of the old school. She told me herself that she never accepted a tenant without a thorough personal examination. I really can’t see what more you want, since you have set your heart on living in a tenement.” The truth of the matter was that I did not want so much. To any one with even a superficial knowledge of tenement conditions the rent of the flat told the story. I had already learned enough about the private affairs of my fellow workers to know that none of them lived in such expensive quarters. For the sake of getting sufficient room for their family they were forced to do without conveniences. At the premium station the girls had looked at me with awe when told that I paid two dollars and a half a week for one room. They lived in flats of from five to seven rooms, the rental of which was from ten to fifteen dollars a month. One of them, describing her home, said: “We’ve got seven rooms, real large rooms, and only one is dark. It’s a cold-water flat. What you want a hot-water flat for?—pay for hot water and never get it. Mother says it’s better to have seven rooms and pay for gas when you needs hot water than to be packed in five rooms paying for hot water that you can never get.” At that time the tenement-dweller who paid above twenty dollars a month rent either received an exceptionally high wage or had several children working. My experience had taught me that my neighbors in the model tenement would be of the lesser professional class and well paid office workers. I not only did not wish to live among such people, but I was dead set against having a lady-of-the-old-school agent. I wished to learn the truth about tenement conditions. However, I realized the uselessness of trying to explain to Miss Stafford. Though I talked all day she would not understand.