Tattered Tom

CHAPTER X.
TOM DROPS HER TATTERS

“Now, what is your name, little girl?” asked Mrs. Merton, surveying Tom doubtfully, half sorry that she had undertaken the care of her.

“Tom.”

“That’s a boy’s name.”

“Everybody calls me Tom,—sometimes Tattered Tom.”

“There’s some reason about the first name,” thought Mrs. Merton, as her glance rested on the ragged skirt and well-ventilated jacket of her brother’s protegée.

“As you are a girl, it is not proper that you should have a boy’s name. What is your real name?”

“I think it’s Jenny. Granny used to call me so long ago, but I like Tom best.”

“Then I shall call you Jenny. Now, Jenny, the first thing to do, is to wash yourself clean. Follow me.”

Mrs. Merton went up the front stairs, and Tom followed, using her eyes to good advantage as she advanced.

The landlady led the way into a bath-room. She set the water to running, and bade Tom undress.

“Am I to get into the tub?” asked Tom.

“Yes, certainly. While you are undressing, I will try and find some clothes that will fit you.”

Though she did not at first fancy the idea of bathing, Tom grew to like it, and submitted with a good grace. Mrs. Merton took care that it should be thorough. After it, she dressed Tom in some clothes, still very good, which had been laid aside by her daughter Mary. Then she combed Tom’s tangled locks, and was astonished by the improvement it made in the appearance of the little waif.

I have already said that Tom had elements of beauty, but it took sharp eyes to detect them under the rags and dirt which had so effectually disguised her. She had very brilliant dark eyes, and a clear olive complexion, with cheeks that had a tinge of red instead of the pallor usually to be found in those children who have the misfortune to be reared in a tenement house. In her new clothes she looked positively handsome, as Mrs. Merton thought, though she did not see fit to say so to Tom herself.

When her toilet was concluded she turned Tom to the glass, and said, “There, Jenny, do you know who that is?”

Tom stared in open-eyed wonder at the image which she saw. She could hardly believe the testimony of her eyes.

“Is that me?” she asked.

“I believe so,” said Mrs. Merton, smiling.

“It don’t look like me a bit,” continued Tom.

“It doesn’t look like ‘Tattered Tom,’ certainly. Don’t you like it better?”

“I dunno,” said Tom, doubtfully. “It looks too much like a girl.”

“But you are a girl, you know.”

“I wish I wasn’t.”

“Why?”

“Boys have more fun; besides, they are stronger, and can fight better.”

“But you don’t want to fight?” said Mrs. Merton, scandalized.

“I licked a boy yesterday,” said Tom, proudly.

“Why did you do that?”

“He sassed me, and I licked him. He was bigger’n I was, too!”

“I can’t allow you to fight in future, Jenny,” said Mrs. Merton. “It isn’t at all proper for girls, or indeed for boys, to fight; but it is worse for girls.”

“Why is it?” asked Tom.

“Because girls should be gentle and lady-like.”

“If you was a girl, and a boy should slap you in the face, what would you do?” asked Tom, fixing her bright eyes upon her mentor.

“I should forgive him, and hope he would become a better boy.”

“I wouldn’t,” said Tom. “I’d give him Hail Columby.”

“You’ve got some very wrong ideas, Jenny,” said Mrs. Merton. “I fear that your grandmother has not brought you up properly.”

“She did not bring me up at all. I brought myself up. As for granny, she didn’t care as long as I brought her money to buy whiskey.”

Mrs. Merton shook her head. It was very evident to her that Tom had been under very bad influences.

“I hope you will see the error of your ways after a while, Jenny. My brother takes an interest in you, and for his sake I hope you will try to improve.”

“If he wants me to, I will,” said Tom, decidedly.

Arab as she was, she had been impressed by the kindness of Captain Barnes, and felt that she should like to please him. Still, there was a fascination in the wild independence of her street life which was likely for some time to interfere with her enjoyment of the usages of a more civilized state. There was little prospect of her taming down into an average girl all at once. The change must come slowly.

“My brother will be very much pleased if he finds that you have improved when he returns from his voyage.”

“When is he goin’ to sea?”

“In two or three days.”

“I asked him to take me with him,” said Tom; “but he wouldn’t.”

“You would only be in the way on a ship, Jenny.”

“No, I shouldn’t. I could be a cabin-boy.”

“But you are not a boy.”

“I could climb the masts as well as a boy. If there was only a pole here, I’d show you.”

“What a child you are!”

“Did you ever read about the female pirate captain?” asked Tom.

“No.”

“Jim Morgan told me all about it. He’d read it in some book. It was a bully story.”

“Such stories are not fit to read.”

“I’d like to be a pirate captain,” said Tom, thoughtfully.

“You mustn’t talk so, Jenny,” said Mrs. Merton, shocked.

“But I would, though, and carry two pistols and a dagger in my belt, and then if anybody sassed me I’d give ’em all they wanted.”

“My brother wouldn’t like to hear you talk so, Jenny. I’m sure I don’t know what has got into you to say such dreadful things.”

“Then I won’t,” said Tom. “I wonder what granny would say if she saw me in these fixin’s. She wouldn’t know me.”

“When my brother comes, you shall go down and open the door for him, and see if he knows you.”

“That will be bully.”

“Now I must be thinking what I can find for you to do. You will be willing to help me?”

“Yes,” said Tom, promptly.

“Do you know how to make beds?”

“I can learn,” said Tom.

“Didn’t your grandmother ever teach you?” asked Mrs. Merton, who, though for a long time a resident of New York, had a very imperfect knowledge of how the poorest classes lived.

“Granny never made her bed,” said Tom. “She just gave it a shake, and tumbled into it.”

“Bless me, how shiftless she must be!” ejaculated Mrs. Merton, in surprise.

“Oh, granny don’t mind!” said Tom, carelessly.

“Did you ever sweep?”

“Lots of times. That’s the way I got money to carry to granny.”

“Were you paid for sweeping, then?” asked Mrs. Merton.

“Yes, people that came along would give me money. If they wouldn’t I’d muddy their boots.”

“What do you mean, child? Where did you sweep?”

“Corner of Broadway and Chambers’ Streets.”

“Oh, you swept the crossing, then.”

“In course I did. If you’ll give me a broom, I’ll go out and sweep front of your house; but I guess there aint so many people come along here as in Broadway.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” said Mrs. Merton, hastily. “I want you to sweep the rooms in the house. Sarah, the chambermaid, will show you how, and also teach you to make beds.”

“All right,” said Tom. “Bring her on, and I’ll help her.”

“We will defer that till to-morrow. Now you may come down to the kitchen with me, and I’ll see if I can find anything for you to do there.”

Tom felt ready for any enterprise, and started to follow Mrs. Merton downstairs, but rather startled the good lady by making a rapid descent astride the banisters.

“Don’t you do that again, Jenny,” she said reprovingly.

“Why not?” asked Tom. “It’s jolly fun.”

CHAPTER XI
THE MISTAKES OF A MORNING

On the way to the kitchen they met Sarah, the chambermaid, going upstairs to make the beds.

“Sarah,” said Mrs. Merton, “here is a little girl who is going to stay with me, and help about the house. You may take her upstairs, and show her how to help you make the beds.”

If Tom had been in her street costume, Sarah would have preferred to dispense with her assistance, but she looked quite civilized and respectable now, and she accepted the offer. Tom accompanied her upstairs to the second floor. The first chamber was that of Mr. Craven,—a gentleman in business down town. It was of course vacant, therefore.

Tom looked about her curiously.

“Now,” said Sarah, “do you know anything about making beds?”

“No,” said Tom.

“Then stand on one side, and I will tell you what to do.”

Tom followed directions pretty well, but, as the task was about finished, an impish freak seized her, and she caught the pillow and threw it at Sarah’s head, disarranging that young lady’s hair, and knocking out a comb.

“What’s that for?” demanded Sarah, angrily.

Tom sat down and laughed boisterously.

“It’s bully fun!” she said. “Throw it at me.”

“I’ll give you a shaking, you young imp,” said Sarah. “You’ve broke my comb.”

She picked up the comb, and dashed round the bed after Tom, who, seeing no other way for escape, sprang upon the bed, where she remained standing.

“Come down from there,” demanded Sarah.

“Let me alone, then!”

“I’ll tell the missis, just as sure as you live!”

“What’ll she do? Will she lick me?”

“You’ll see.”

This would not have checked Tom, but it occurred to her, all at once, that her freak would be reported to the captain, and might displease him.

“I’ll stop,” said she. “I was only in fun.”

By this time, Sarah had ascertained that the comb was not broken, after all, and this made her more inclined to overlook Tom’s offence.

“Now behave decent!” she said.

She gave Tom further directions about the proper way of doing chamber-work, which Tom followed quite closely, being resolved apparently to turn over a new leaf. But her reformation was not thorough. She caught sight of Mr. Craven’s shaving materials, which he had carelessly left on the bureau, and before Sarah anticipated her intention, she had seized the brush and spread the lather over her cheeks.

“What are you doing, you little torment?” asked Sarah.

“I’m goin’ to shave,” said Tom. “It must feel funny.”

“Put that razor down!” said Sarah, approaching.

Tom brandished the razor playfully, in a manner that considerably startled the chamber-maid, who stopped short in alarm:—

“I’ll go and tell the missis how you cut up,” said she, going to the door.

This was unnecessary, however, for at this moment Mrs. Merton, desirous of learning how Tom was getting along, opened the door. She started back in dismay at the spectacle which greeted her view, and, in a tone unusually decided for so mild a woman, said, “Jenny, put down that razor instantly, and wipe the soap from your cheeks. Not so,” she added hastily, seeing that Tom was about to wipe it off upon her skirt. “Here, take the towel. Now, what do you mean by such conduct?”

“Wouldn’t he like it?” asked Tom, somewhat abashed.

“Do you mean my brother?”

“Yes, the sailor man.”

“No, he would be very angry.”

“Then I won’t do so again;” and Tom seemed quite decided in her repentance.

“What possessed you to touch those things, Jenny?”

“That isn’t all she did, mum,” said Sarah. “She threw the pillow at me, and almost druv the comb into my head. She’s the craziest creetur’ I ever sot eyes on.”

“Did you do that?” asked Mrs. Merton.

“Yes,” said Tom. “I told her she might pitch it at me. It’s bully fun.”

“I can’t allow such goings-on,” said Mrs. Merton. “If you do so again, I must send you back to your grandmother.”

“You don’t know where she lives,” said Tom.

“At any rate I won’t keep you here.”

Tom thought of the three square meals which she would receive daily, and decided to remain. She continued quiet, therefore, and really helped Sarah in the remaining rooms. When this task was completed she went downstairs. At this moment a ring was heard at the door-bell. Thinking that it might be the captain, Tom answered the summons herself. She opened the door suddenly, but found herself mistaken.

A young gentleman was the visitor.

“Can I see Mrs. Merton?” he inquired.

“Yes,” said Tom; “come in.”

He stepped into the hall.

“Come right along. I’ll show you where she is.”

She knew that the landlady was in the kitchen, and supposed that this was the proper place to lead the visitor.

The latter followed Tom as far as the head of the stairs, and then paused.

“Where are you leading me?” he asked.

“She’s down in the kitchen. Come right along.”

“No, I will stay here. You may tell her there is a gentleman wishes to see her.”

Tom went down, and found the landlady.

“There’s a feller upstairs wants to see you,” she said. “He wouldn’t come down here. I asked him.”

“Good gracious! You didn’t invite him down into the kitchen?”

“Why not?” said Tom.

“You should have carried him into the parlor.”

“All right!” said Tom. “I’ll know better next time.”

Mrs. Merton smoothed her hair, and went upstairs to greet her visitor, who proved to be an applicant for board.

Only fifteen minutes later Tom had a chance to improve on her first mistake. Again the door-bell rang, and again Tom opened the door. A wrinkled old woman, with a large basket, stood before her.

“I’m a poor widder,” she whined, “with four childer that have nothing to ate. Can’t you give me a few pennies, and may the blessings of Heaven rest upon you!”

“Come in,” said Tom.

The old woman stepped into the hall.

“Come right in here,” said Tom, opening the door of the parlor.

The old beggar, not accustomed to being received with so much attention, paused doubtfully.

“Come in, if you’re comin’,” said Tom, impatiently. “The lady told me to put everybody in here.”

The old woman followed, and took a seat on the edge of a sofa, placing her basket on the carpet. Before Tom had a chance to acquaint her mistress with the fact that a visitor awaited her, the bell rang again. This time Tom found herself confronted by a fashionably dressed and imposing-looking lady.

“I wish to see Mrs. Merton,” she said.

“All right!” said Tom. “Just you come in, and I’ll call her.”

The visitor entered, and was ushered also into the parlor. Leaving her to find a seat for herself, Tom disappeared in pursuit of the landlady.

Mrs. Courtenay did not at first observe the other occupant of the room. When her eyes rested on the old crone sitting on the sofa, with her basket, which was partly stored with cold victuals, resting on the carpet, she started in mingled astonishment and disgust. Her aristocratic nostrils curved, and, taking a delicate handkerchief, she tried to shut out the unsavory presence. The old woman saw the action, and fidgeted nervously, feeling that she ought not to be there. While the two guests were in this uncomfortable state of feeling, Mrs. Merton, quite unsuspicious of anything wrong, opened the door.

“Is this Mrs. Merton?” asked Mrs. Courtenay.

“Yes, madam.”

“I called to inquire about a servant who referred me to you,” continued Mrs. Courtenay, haughtily; “but I didn’t anticipate the company I should find myself in.”

Following her glance, Mrs. Merton was struck with dismay, as she saw the second visitor.

“How came you here?” she demanded hastily.

“The little gal brought me. It wasn’t my fault indeed, mum,” whined the old woman.

“What do you want?”

“I’m a poor widder, mum. If you could be so kind as to give me a few pennies.”

“I have nothing for you to-day. You can go,” said Mrs. Merton, who was too provoked to be charitable, as otherwise she might have been. She pointed to the door, and the applicant for charity hobbled out hastily, feeling that she was not likely to obtain anything under present circumstances.

“I must beg your pardon,” said Mrs. Merton, “for the mistake of an inexperienced child, who has never before waited upon the door; though, how she could have made such an absurd blunder, I cannot tell.”

Mrs. Courtenay deigned to be appeased, and opened her business. When she had left the house, Mrs. Merton called Tom.

“Jenny,” she said, “how came you to show that beggar into the parlor?”

“She asked for you,” said Tom, “and you told me to take everybody that asked for you into the parlor.”

“Never take such a woman as that in.”

“All right!” said Tom.

“That comes of taking a girl in from the street,” thought Mrs. Merton. “I wish I hadn’t agreed to take her.”

CHAPTER XII
THE VANQUISHED BULLY

Notwithstanding Tom’s mistake, she was still intrusted with the duty of answering the bell. At length, to her satisfaction, she opened the door to her friend of the morning.

He looked at her in surprise.

“What, is this Tom?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, enjoying his surprise. “Didn’t you know me?”

“Hardly. Why, you look like a young lady!”

“Do I?” said Tom, hardly knowing whether or not to feel pleased at the compliment, for she fancied she should prefer to be a boy.

“Yes, you are much improved. And how have you been getting on this morning?”

“I’ve been cutting up,” said Tom, shaking her head.

“Not badly, I hope.”

“I’ll tell you what I did;” and Tom in her own way gave an account of the events related in the previous chapter.

The captain laughed heartily.

“You aint mad?” questioned Tom.

“Did you think I would be?”

“She said so,” said Tom.

“Who is she?”

“Your sister.”

The captain recovered his gravity. He saw that his merriment might encourage Tom in her pranks, and so increase the difficulties his sister was likely to find with her.

“No, I am not angry,” he said, “but I want you very much to improve. You will have a good home here, and I want you to do as well as you can, so that when I get home from my voyage I may find you very much improved. Do you think I shall?”

Tom listened attentively.

“What do you want me to do?” she asked.

“To learn, as fast as you can, both about work and study. I shall leave directions to have you sent to school. Will you like that?”

“I don’t know,” said Tom. “I’m afraid I’ll be bad, and get licked.”

“Then try not to be bad. But you want to know something when you grow up,—don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then you will have to go to school and study. Can you read?”

“Not enough to hurt me,” said Tom.

“Then, if you find yourself behind the rest, you must work all the harder. Will you promise me to do it?”

Tom nodded.

“And will you try to behave well?”

“Yes,” said Tom. “I’ll do it for you. I wouldn’t do it for granny.”

“Then do it for me.”

Here Mrs. Merton appeared on the scene, and Tom was directed to go downstairs to assist the cook.

“Well, what do you think of her, Martha?”

“She’s a regular trial. I’ll tell you what she did this morning.”

“I know all.”

“Did she tell you?” asked his sister, in surprise.

“Yes, she voluntarily told me that she had been ‘cutting up;’ and, on my questioning her, confessed how. However, it was partly the result of ignorance.”

“I wish I hadn’t undertaken the charge of her.”

“Don’t be discouraged, Martha. There’s some good in her, and she’s as smart as a steel trap. She’s promised me to turn over a new leaf, and do as well as she can.”

“Do you rely upon that?”

“I do. She’s got will and resolution, and I believe she means what she says.”

“I hope it’ll prove so,” said Mrs. Merton, doubtfully.

“I find she knows very little. I should like to have her sent to school as soon as possible. She can assist you when at home, and I will take care that you lose nothing by it.”

To this Mrs. Merton was brought to agree, but could not help expressing her surprise at the interest which her brother took in that child. She was a good woman, but it was not strange if the thought should come to her that she had two daughters of her own, having a better claim upon their uncle’s money than this wild girl whom he had picked up in the streets. But Captain Barnes showed that he had not forgotten his nieces, as two handsome dress-patterns, sent in from Stewart’s during the afternoon, sufficiently evinced.

Tom had not yet met Mrs. Merton’s daughters, both being absent at school. They returned home about three o’clock. Mary, a girl of about Tom’s age, had rather pretty, but insipid, features, and was vain of what she regarded as her beauty. Fanny, who was eight, was more attractive.

“Children, can’t you speak to your uncle?” said Mrs. Merton; for the captain declared himself tired, and did not go out after lunch.

“How do you do, uncle?” said Mary, advancing and offering her hand.

“Why, Mary, you have become quite a young lady,” said her uncle.

Mary simpered and looked pleased.

“And Fanny too. Martha, where is that doll I brought for her?”

The doll was handed to the delighted child.

“I suppose you are too old for dolls, Mary,” said the captain to his eldest niece.

“I should think so, Uncle Albert,” answered Mary, bridling.

“Then it’s lucky I didn’t bring you one. But I’ve brought you a playmate.”

Mary looked surprised.

Tom was passing through the hall at the moment, and her guardian called her.

“Come in, Tom.”

Mary Merton stared at the new-comer, and her quick eyes detected that the dress in which she appeared was one of her own.

“Why, she’s got on my dress,” she said.

“She is about your size, Mary, so I gave her your dress.”

“Didn’t she have any clothes of her own?”

“Were you unwilling to let her have that dress?” asked her uncle.

Mary pouted, and Captain Barnes said, “Martha, I will put money in your hands to supply Jenny with a suitable wardrobe. I had intended to give Mary new articles for all which been appropriated to Tom’s use; but I have changed my mind.”

“She can have them,” said Mary, regretting her selfishness, from an equally selfish motive.

“I won’t trouble you,” said her uncle, rather coldly.

Tom had listened attentively to this conversation, turning her bright eyes from one to the other.

“Come here, Tom, and shake hands with these two little girls.”

“I’ll shake hands with her,” said Tom, indicating Fanny.

“And won’t you shake hands with Mary?”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t like her.”

“Shake hands with her, for my sake.”

Tom instantly extended her hand, but now it was Mary who held back. Her mother would have forced her to give her hand, but Captain Barnes said, “It don’t matter. Leave them to become friends in their own time.”

Two days afterwards the captain sailed. Tom renewed her promise to be a good girl, and he went away hopeful that she would keep it.

“I shall have somebody to come home to, Jenny,” he said. “Will you be glad to see me back?”

“Yes, I will,” she said; and there was a heartiness in her tone which showed that she meant what she said.

The next day Tom went to school. She was provided with two or three books such as she would need, and accompanied Fanny; for, though several years older, she was not as proficient as the latter.

In the next street there was a boy, whose pleasure it was to bully children smaller than himself. He had more than once annoyed Fanny, and when the latter saw him a little in advance, she said, nervously, “Let us cross the street, Jenny.”

“Why?” asked Tom.

“There’s George Griffiths just ahead.”

“What if he is?”

“He’s an awful bad boy. Sometimes he pulls away my books, and runs away with them. He likes to plague us.”

“He’d better not try it,” said Tom.

“What would you do?” asked Fanny, in surprise.

“You’ll see. I won’t cross the street. I’m goin’ right ahead.”

Fanny caught her companion’s arm, and advanced, trembling, hoping that George Griffiths might not see them. But he had already espied them, and, feeling in a bullying mood, winked to a companion and said, “You’ll see how I’ll frighten these girls.”

He advanced to meet them, and took off his hat with mock politeness.

“How do you do this morning, young ladies?” he said.

“Go away, you bad boy!” said little Fanny, in a flutter.

“I’ll pay you for that,” he said, and tried to snatch one of her books, but was considerably startled at receiving a blow on the side of the head from her companion.

“Just let her alone,” said Tom.

“What have you got to say about it?” he demanded insolently.

“You’ll see.”

Hereupon he turned his attention to Tom, and tried to snatch her books, but was rather astounded when his intended victim struck him a sounding blow in the face with her fist.

“Take my books, Fanny,” she said, and, dropping them on the sidewalk, squared off scientifically.

“Come on, if you want to!” said Tom, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the prospect of a fight.

“I don’t want to fight with a girl,” he said, considerably astonished at vigorous resistance where he had expected timid submission.

“You’re afraid!” said Tom, triumphantly.

“No, I’m not,” said George, backing out all the while; “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You can’t do it,” said Tom; “I can lick you any day.”

“How could you do it?” asked Fanny, as the dreaded bully slunk away. “How brave you are, Jenny! I’m awful afraid of him.”

“You needn’t be,” said Tom, taking her books. “I’ve licked boys bigger’n him. I can lick him, and he knows it.”

She was right. The story got about, and George Griffiths was so laughed at, for being vanquished by a girl, that he was very careful in future whom he attempted to bully.