"To be sure, honey," replied Mother Bunch, wiping her arms, and smiling
broadly at Bet. "And indeed, and indeed, it's the truth I'm telling
you, love, when I say that not a purtier or nicer little room could
be found in the whole of the Row. You come along o' me, me dears-oh,
and it's chape as dirt you're getting it, love!"

The burly Irishwoman panted and rolled her-self upstairs. Bet came
next, carrying her bundle, and the boys followed in the rear. The
stairs were slippery, and dark, and broken--full of dangers and pitfalls
to all but the most wary.

"Jump across here, love," said Mother Bunch; "there's a hole two feet
wide just by this corner, and you'd drop into the cellar ef you worn't
careful. Oh, glory! but my breath's nearly gone--I'm bate entirely.
I'm letting you the room chape as dirt, Bet Granger, 'cos I've took
a fancy to you, honey; and that's as true as my name is Molly
O'Flaherty. 'Tis the Irish you have about you here, love--'tis them
as is thrue to the backbone as is your neighbors, dear. Fight for you!
honey,--oh, yes, we'll fight. Them boys, why they're Mother Bunch's
boys now. There, honey, there's your room, and as purty an attic as
heart could wish. A shilling a week! Why, it's chaper than dirt! Now
then, I must go back to hang up my bits of duds. There's the kay of
the room, love, and Molly O'Flaherty's blessings on all three of yez."

Mother Bunch turned, and thumped and bumped herself downstairs; and
Bet, her eyes bright, and a spot of intense color on each of her cheeks,
turned round to the boys.

"Look here," she said excitedly--"we're as safe here as if we was in
London. Do you think father will come to Paradise Row? and do you think