"Well, they have got some other things here. Mother, the cabbages don't look nice." Then soon after coming to a small market store, Rotha must stand still to look. "They are a little better here," she judged. "Mother, mother! they have got everything at this market. Do see! there are fish, and oysters, and clams; and eggs; and what are those queer things?" "Lobsters." "What are they good for?" "To eat." "They don't look as if they were good for anything. Mother, one could get a very good dinner here." "With plenty of money." "Does it take much?--to get one dinner?" "Are you hungry?" said her mother, smiling faintly. "It takes a good deal of money to get anything in New York, Rotha." "Then I am afraid we ought to have staid at Medwayville." A conclusion which almost forced itself upon Mrs. Carpenter's mind. For the business of finding a lodging that would suit her and that she could pay for, soon turned out to be one of difficulty. She and Rotha grew weary of walking, and more weary of looking at rooms that would suit them which they could not pay for, and other rooms which they could pay for and that would not do. All the houses in New York seemed to come under one or the other category. From one house agency to another, and from these to countless places referred to, advertised for hire, the mother and daughter wandered; in vain. One or the other difficulty met them in every case. "What will you do, mother, if you cannot find a place?" Rotha asked, the evening of the first day. "Go back to Medwayville?" "We cannot go back." "Then we must find a place," said Rotha. And driven by this necessity, so they did. The third day, well tired in body and much more in mind, they did at last find what would do. It was a long walk from their hotel, and seemed endless. No doubt, in the country, with grass under their feet, or even the well beaten foot track beside the highway, neither mother nor daughter would have thought anything of the distance; but here the hard pavement wearied them, and the way measured off by so many turns and crossings and beset with houses and human beings, seemed a forlorn pilgrimage into remote regions. Besides, it left the pleasanter part of the city and went, as Rotha remarked, among poor folks. Down Bleecker St. till it turned, then following the new stretch of straight pavement across Carmine St., and on and on into the parts then called Chelsea. On till they came to an irregular open space. "This must be Abingdon Square," said the mother. "It isn't square at all," Rotha objected. "But this must be it. Then it's only one street more, Rotha. Look for Jane Street." Beyond Abingdon Square Jane Street was found to be the next crossing. They turned the corner and were at the place they sought.