She had gone about three-quarters of a block, when her eyes, in glancing up, caught sight of a house, dark and weather beaten, with a glimmering light on the front, under which was written: LODGING FOR MEN OR WOMEN RATES RIGHT She paused. Her hand touched her forehead; it was hot and throbbing. She felt tired, and her eyes were heavy with sleep. She hesitated, turned into the gate, and approached the door timidly. It was a forbidding place, she saw as she came nearer. The door hung weakly upon its hinges, while light came through the many cracks. She shuddered. How different it was from Mother Jane's, where everything was spick and span, clean and well kept. Oh, if she could be home now with Mother Jane! She wrapped lightly upon the door, and it seemed a long time before someone shuffled in that direction. Presently, after a turning of bolts, or it seemed more like someone was drawing a peg out of a staple, with a squeak, the door opened about a foot. In the dim light, the face of an old woman looked out from a very wrinkled face. "What d' ya want?" she asked gruffly. "I see you have a sign up here," and she pointed upward, "that says rooms," she replied, timidly. "Yeh. Is yu 'lone. Wha's yu man?" Mildred shuddered, and then she recovered. She was tired and wanted to sleep. Tomorrow she would try to do better. She replied as politely as she could; "I am alone. I have no _man_." "Hunh!" grunted the other, opening the squeaking door wide as she said: "Come in!" Mildred entered and stood looking about her, while the old witch regarded her suspiciously. "So you're alone, uh? Got no man. Hunh! That's funny." She hobbled to where a lamp set, with chimney smoked, and upon which a crack had been patched with paper. "There's a chair. Sit down, gal." She shuffled about, and when the light was better, by turning it up a bit higher, she came near where Mildred sat, and took a seat in an old rocker which had a sack filled with straw, to make it more comfortable. "How much do you charge for your rooms?" Mildred inquired. "Two bits when you're alone. Thirty-five cents if yu got a man." Mildred had surmised that would be the charge, and had the amount ready. She didn't care to have this witch see that she had money. She handed her the quarter. The old creature took it, held it to the light, and examined it a moment before she dropped it into an old pocket. "Wantta go t' bed now?" the other inquired, a little kinder than she had spoken before. "I feel sleepy," said Mildred, and looked it. "All right," said the other, rising with much difficulty. "Ah, gal, that's rheumatiz. Bad. When you gits lak dis, life don't hold much fo' you." Mildred tried to look sympathetic as she followed her, and murmured something inaudible.