The door was opened by the woman who had admitted Kit and Churn. Not only was she black, but she was fat and slovenly. Staring at the new-comer, she exclaimed with a mouth full of gum: "Say, is you another fren' o' Mr. Cheffinsky?" "Chuff!" was the password that flashed through Clo's brain. "This is where he lives!" She was triumphant. "I don't know anything about Mr. Cheffinsky," she replied, "but I'm in a scrape, and a friend of mine once recommended me to this house. I saw some people come in, and a light. It's still a boarding-house, isn't it?" "It ain't no foundlin' orphant asylum." "I don't ask for charity. I've got money to pay my board. But I don't want an expensive room. One at the top of the house will do." "Say, it's a real funny time o' night for a young girl like you to go lookin' foh a home to lay her haid," remarked the negress. "But you can step in the hall. I'll call Mis' MacMahon. She's the lady o' the house. We've got a room upstahs, but I don't know whethah she'll let you have it." She allowed Clo to enter, and left the girl standing as she descended the basement stairs. "'MacMahon' sounds hopeful!" Clo thought. The girl had lodged drearily in New York, but she had never been in a house as dreary as this. Mrs. MacMahon's look was less inspiring than her name. She was of the big-jowled type; a grim woman of middle age; and her manner suggested suspicion. But Clo began to speak first, with her best brogue, which she could use, when needed, with great effect. "I beg your pardon, ma'am, for intruding on ye at this time of the night," said the girl in her creamiest voice, with a child-like smile, "but the lady I'm maid for and me had a quarrel about a young man, and rather than give him up, I just walked away from the house, without waitin' to pack my things. I've walked till I'm played out! I tould yer maid a friend o' mine had spoken o' Mrs. MacMahon's place and I didn't forget. I'll pay a week in advance if you'll take me in." Whether Mrs. MacMahon believed these out-pourings was an open question, but her face softened slightly at sound of the brogue. "Irish, are you!" she said. "Yes, County Cork, and not over since very long," returned the girl. "I'm from County Cork, me and me dead husband both," volunteered the woman. "I've been in New York these twelve years. Violet says you ast for a top-floor room?" "I did that," said Clo. "Well, a top-floor room is the only wan I've got vacant. How long would ye be wanting it for?" "Oh, a few days, and maybe more." "You can come and have a look. I don't boast of the room. It's last choice. I charge seven dollars with board." "I don't mind seven dollars," said Clo, and followed her hostess up flight after flight of dimly lighted stairs. They were covered with oilcloth, and the hall smelled of escaping gas, but the girl was almost happy. The place was not attractive, but it seemed decent enough.