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Updated: May 27, 2025
Darby put us all out o' the kitchen to have pace an' quietness about him." "An' 'twas well thought o' Darby," she replied; "an' may the blessin' o' God rest upon him for it! A male's mate or a nights lodgin' he'll never want under my father's roof for that goodness to him. I'll be quiet." There was now a short pause, during which those in the room heard a smack, accompanied by the words, "Dheah.
Why did you give a lodgin' to this ould vagabone?" "I tould you the raison," she replied; "but you needn't care about him, for there's not a word of English in his cheek." "Faith, but he may have something in his purse, for all that. Is he ould?" "A poor ould man." "So much the betther; be the livin' I'll try whether he has any ould coins about him.
Most of the people I called on had just laid in a stock, and didn't want to buy. So one cold night, when I hadn't money enough to pay for a lodgin', I burned the last of my matches to keep me from freezin'. But it cost too much to get warm that way, and I couldn't keep it up." "You've seen hard times, Dick," said Frank, compassionately.
Lift her up on the foot of the bed, Reuben. Why, what a bonny little maid! and who may she be? 'She be lodgin' at Farmer Giles's; and be troubled in her mind concarning tribbylation. The old woman reached over, and laid a wrinkled hand on the soft, childish one. 'Then tell old Jenny, dearie, what it is.
You see I'd neither father nor mother, an' though a good old 'ooman did take me in, she couldn't purvide a bed or blankets, an' her 'ome was stuffy, so I preferred to live in the streets, an' sleep of a night w'en I couldn't pay for a lodgin', in empty casks and under wegitable carts in Covent Garden Market, or in empty sugar 'ogsheads.
Weel, ye'll ken him, an' aiblins, here the speaker took up the bellows and thoughtfully assisted the fire's respiration, 'aiblins it wud be a ceevil matter to offer to gie him a night's lodgin', for it's a gey lang way up frae the auld toon, an' the manager's gettin' gey white aboot the pow.
Why, say, more'n once I've staked him to the price of a twenty-cent lodgin', and the only way I ever got any of it back was by tippin' him off to this vacancy on the coffee urn at the dairy lunch. Used to be copy boy on the Sunday, Skeet did; but that was 'way back. It didn't last long either; for he was just as punk a performer at that as he ever was at any of the other things he's tackled.
Not that me an' Danny minds, fur we're glad to git a stage to feed, an' ef you've any single man that wants lodgin' we've fixed up a room and kin keep him overnight." Notwithstanding this warning, Euphemia and I decided not to take in our sign. We were not to be frightened by a stage-driver. The next day our own driver passed us on the road as he was going down.
Well, that blame fool went on pilin' it up while the crowd egged him on by offerin' two bits, an' four bits, an' six bits an' a drink; an' so on until I was disgusted and turned it off as a joke, tellin' the blasted rascal to take the pony an' try to trade him for a night's lodgin'.
"How much do you have to pay there?" "Six cents for lodgin', and six cents for supper and breakfast." "That is, six cents for each." "Yes; you ain't comin' to live there, are you?" asked Mike. "I don't know I may have to." "You're jokin'." "What makes you think I am joking?" "Because you're a swell. Look at them clo'es!" "I have a good suit of clothes, to be sure, but I haven't much money.
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