章节正文
Signor Orlando rang the bell, and a stout woman
of German aspect answered the call.
"So you haf come back, Herr Orlando," said this
lady. "I hope you haf brought them two weeks'
rent you owe me."
"All in good time, Mrs. Schlessinger," said
Orlando. "But you see I have brought some one with
me."
"Is he your bruder now?" asked the lady.
"No, he is not, unfortunately for me. His name
is----"
Orlando coughed.
"Philip Brent," suggested our hero.
"Just so--Philip Brent."
"I am glad to see Mr. Prent," said the landlady.
"And is he an actor like you, Signor Orlando?"
"Not yet. We don't know what may happen.
But he comes on business, Mrs. Schlessinger. He
wants a room."
The landlady brightened up. She had two rooms
vacant, and a new lodger was a godsend.
"I vill show Mr. Prent what rooms I haf," she
said. "Come up-stairs, Mr. Prent."
The good woman toiled up the staircase panting,
for she was asthmatic, and Phil followed. The
interior of the house was as dingy as the exterior,
and it was quite dark on the second landing.
She threw open the door of a back room, which,
being lower than the hall, was reached by a step.
"There!" said she, pointing to the faded carpet,
rumpled bed, and cheap pine bureau, with the little
six-by-ten looking-glass surmounting it. "This is a
peautiful room for a single gentleman, or even for a
man and his wife."
"My friend, Mr. Brent, is not married," said
Signor Orlando waggishly.
Phil laughed.
"You will have your shoke, Signor Orlando," said
Mrs. Schlessinger.
"What is the price of this room?" asked Phil.
"Three dollars a week, Mr. Prent, I ought to
have four, but since you are a steady young gentleman----"
"How does she know that?" Phil wondered.
"Since you are a steady young gentleman, and a
friend of Signor Orlando, I will not ask you full
price."
"That is more than I can afford to pay," said
Phil, shaking his head.
"I think you had better show Mr. Brent the hall
bedroom over mine," suggested the signor.
Mrs. Schlessinger toiled up another staircase, the
two new acquaintances following her. She threw
open the door of one of those depressing cells known
in New York as a hall bedroom. It was about five
feet wide and eight feet long, and was nearly filled
up by a cheap bedstead, covered by a bed about two
inches thick, and surmounted at the head by a
consumptive-looking pillow. The paper was torn from
the walls in places. There was one rickety chair,
and a wash-stand which bore marks of extreme antiquity.
"This is a very neat room for a single gentleman,"
remarked Mrs. Schlessinger.
Phil's spirits fell as he surveyed what was to be
his future home. It was a sad contrast to his neat,
comfortable room at home.
"Is this room like yours, Signor Orlando?" he
asked faintly.
"As like as two peas," answered Orlando.
"Would you recommend me to take it?"
"You couldn't do better."
How could the signor answer otherwise in
presence of a landlady to whom he owed two weeks'
rent?
"Then," said Phil, with a secret shudder, "I'll
take it if the rent is satisfactory."
"A dollar and a quarter a week," said Mrs.
Schlessinger promptly.
"I'll take it for a week."
"You won't mind paying in advance?" suggested
the landlady. "I pay my own rent in advance."
Phil's answer was to draw a dollar and a quarter
from his purse and pass it to his landlady.
"I'll take possession now," said our hero. "Can
I have some water to wash my face?"
Mrs. Schlessinger was evidently surprised that
any one should want to wash in the middle of the
day, but made no objections.
When Phil had washed his face and hands, he
went out with Signor Orlando to dine at a restaurant
on the Bowery.
CHAPTER VII.
BOWERMAN'S VARIETIES.
The restaurant to which he was taken by
Signor Orlando was thronged with patrons, for
it was one o'clock. On the whole, they did not
appear to belong to the highest social rank, though
they were doubtlessrespectable. The table-cloths
were generally soiled, and the waiters had a greasy
look. Phil said nothing, but he did not feel quite so
hungry as before he entered.
The signor found two places at one of the tables,
and they sat down. Phil examined a greasy bill of
fare and found that he could obtain a plate of meat
for ten cents. This included bread and butter, and
a dish of mashed potato. A cup of tea would be
five cents additional.
"I can afford fifteen cents for a meal," he thought,
and called for a plate of roast beef.
"Corn beef and cabbage for me," said the signor.
"It's very filling," he remarked aside to Phil.
"They won't give you but a mouthful of beef."
So it proved, but the quality was such that Phil
did not care for more. He ordered a piece of apple
pie afterward feeling still hungry.
"I see you're bound to have a square meal," said
the signor.
After Phil had had it, he was bound to confess
that he did not feel uncomfortably full. Yet he had
spent twice as much as the signor, who dispensed
with the tea and pie as superfluous luxuries.
In the evening Signor Orlando bent his steps
toward Bowerman's Varieties.
"I hope in a day or two to get a complimentary
ticket for you, Mr. Brent," he said.
"How much is the ticket?" asked Phil.
"Fifteen cents. Best reserved seats twenty-five
cents.'
"I believe I will be extravagant for once," said
Phil, "and go at my own expense."
"Good!" said the signor huskily. "You'll feel
repaid I'll be bound. Bowerman always gives the
public their money's worth. The performance
begins at eight o'clock and won't be out until half-
past eleven."
"Less than five cents an hour," commented Phil.
"What a splendid head you've got!" said Signor
Orlando admiringly. "I couldn't have worked that
up. Figures ain't my province."
It seemed to Phil rather a slender cause for
compliment, but he said nothing, since it seemed clear
that the computation was beyond his companion's
ability.
As to the performance, it was not refined, nor was
the talent employed first-class. Still Phil enjoyed
himself after a fashion. He had never had it in his
power to attend many amusements, and this was
new to him. He naturally looked with interest for
the appearance of his new friend and fellow-lodger.
Signor Orlando appeared, dressed in gorgeous
array, sang a song which did credit to the loudness
of his voice rather than its quality, and ended by a
noisy clog-dance which elicited much applause from
the boys in the gallery, who shared the evening's
entertainment for the moderate sum of ten cents.
The signor was called back to the stage. He
bowed his thanks and gave another dance. Then he
was permitted to retire. As this finished his part of
the entertainment he afterward came around in
citizen's dress, and took a seat in the auditorium
beside Phil.
"How did you like me, Mr. Brent?" he asked
complacently.
"I thought you did well, Signor Orlando. You
were much applauded."
"Yes, the audience is very loyal," said the proud
performer.
Two half-grown boys heard Phil pronounce the
name of his companion, and they gazed awe-stricken
at the famous man.
"That's Signor Orlando!" whispered one of the
others.
"I know it," was the reply.
"Such is fame," said the Signor, in a pleased tone
to Phil. "People point me out on the streets."
"Very gratifying, no doubt," said our hero, but it
occurred to him that he would not care to be pointed
out as a performer at Bowerman's. Signor Orlando,
however, well-pleased with himself, didn't doubt
that Phil was impressed by his popularity, and
perhaps even envied it.
They didn't stay till the entertainment was over.
It was, of course, familiar to the signor, and Phil
felt tired and sleepy, for he had passed a part of the
afternoon in exploring the city, and had walked in
all several miles.
He went back to his lodging-house, opened the
door with a pass-key which Mrs. Schlessinger had
given him, and climbing to his room in the third story,
undressed and deposited himself in bed.
The bed was far from luxurious. A thin pallet
rested on slats, so thin that he could feel the slats
through it, and the covering was insufficient. The
latter deficiency he made up by throwing his overcoat
over the quilt, and despite the hardness of his
bed, he was soon sleeping soundly.
"To-morrow I must look for a place," he said to
Signor Orlando. "Can you give me any advise?"
"Yes, my dear boy. Buy a daily paper, the Sun
or Herald, and look at the advertisements. There
may be some prominent business man who is looking
out for a boy of your size."
of German aspect answered the call.
"So you haf come back, Herr Orlando," said this
lady. "I hope you haf brought them two weeks'
rent you owe me."
"All in good time, Mrs. Schlessinger," said
Orlando. "But you see I have brought some one with
me."
"Is he your bruder now?" asked the lady.
"No, he is not, unfortunately for me. His name
is----"
Orlando coughed.
"Philip Brent," suggested our hero.
"Just so--Philip Brent."
"I am glad to see Mr. Prent," said the landlady.
"And is he an actor like you, Signor Orlando?"
"Not yet. We don't know what may happen.
But he comes on business, Mrs. Schlessinger. He
wants a room."
The landlady brightened up. She had two rooms
vacant, and a new lodger was a godsend.
"I vill show Mr. Prent what rooms I haf," she
said. "Come up-stairs, Mr. Prent."
The good woman toiled up the staircase panting,
for she was asthmatic, and Phil followed. The
interior of the house was as dingy as the exterior,
and it was quite dark on the second landing.
She threw open the door of a back room, which,
being lower than the hall, was reached by a step.
"There!" said she, pointing to the faded carpet,
rumpled bed, and cheap pine bureau, with the little
six-by-ten looking-glass surmounting it. "This is a
peautiful room for a single gentleman, or even for a
man and his wife."
"My friend, Mr. Brent, is not married," said
Signor Orlando waggishly.
Phil laughed.
"You will have your shoke, Signor Orlando," said
Mrs. Schlessinger.
"What is the price of this room?" asked Phil.
"Three dollars a week, Mr. Prent, I ought to
have four, but since you are a steady young gentleman----"
"How does she know that?" Phil wondered.
"Since you are a steady young gentleman, and a
friend of Signor Orlando, I will not ask you full
price."
"That is more than I can afford to pay," said
Phil, shaking his head.
"I think you had better show Mr. Brent the hall
bedroom over mine," suggested the signor.
Mrs. Schlessinger toiled up another staircase, the
two new acquaintances following her. She threw
open the door of one of those depressing cells known
in New York as a hall bedroom. It was about five
feet wide and eight feet long, and was nearly filled
up by a cheap bedstead, covered by a bed about two
inches thick, and surmounted at the head by a
consumptive-looking pillow. The paper was torn from
the walls in places. There was one rickety chair,
and a wash-stand which bore marks of extreme antiquity.
"This is a very neat room for a single gentleman,"
remarked Mrs. Schlessinger.
Phil's spirits fell as he surveyed what was to be
his future home. It was a sad contrast to his neat,
comfortable room at home.
"Is this room like yours, Signor Orlando?" he
asked faintly.
"As like as two peas," answered Orlando.
"Would you recommend me to take it?"
"You couldn't do better."
How could the signor answer otherwise in
presence of a landlady to whom he owed two weeks'
rent?
"Then," said Phil, with a secret shudder, "I'll
take it if the rent is satisfactory."
"A dollar and a quarter a week," said Mrs.
Schlessinger promptly.
"I'll take it for a week."
"You won't mind paying in advance?" suggested
the landlady. "I pay my own rent in advance."
Phil's answer was to draw a dollar and a quarter
from his purse and pass it to his landlady.
"I'll take possession now," said our hero. "Can
I have some water to wash my face?"
Mrs. Schlessinger was evidently surprised that
any one should want to wash in the middle of the
day, but made no objections.
When Phil had washed his face and hands, he
went out with Signor Orlando to dine at a restaurant
on the Bowery.
CHAPTER VII.
BOWERMAN'S VARIETIES.
The restaurant to which he was taken by
Signor Orlando was thronged with patrons, for
it was one o'clock. On the whole, they did not
appear to belong to the highest social rank, though
they were doubtlessrespectable. The table-cloths
were generally soiled, and the waiters had a greasy
look. Phil said nothing, but he did not feel quite so
hungry as before he entered.
The signor found two places at one of the tables,
and they sat down. Phil examined a greasy bill of
fare and found that he could obtain a plate of meat
for ten cents. This included bread and butter, and
a dish of mashed potato. A cup of tea would be
five cents additional.
"I can afford fifteen cents for a meal," he thought,
and called for a plate of roast beef.
"Corn beef and cabbage for me," said the signor.
"It's very filling," he remarked aside to Phil.
"They won't give you but a mouthful of beef."
So it proved, but the quality was such that Phil
did not care for more. He ordered a piece of apple
pie afterward feeling still hungry.
"I see you're bound to have a square meal," said
the signor.
After Phil had had it, he was bound to confess
that he did not feel uncomfortably full. Yet he had
spent twice as much as the signor, who dispensed
with the tea and pie as superfluous luxuries.
In the evening Signor Orlando bent his steps
toward Bowerman's Varieties.
"I hope in a day or two to get a complimentary
ticket for you, Mr. Brent," he said.
"How much is the ticket?" asked Phil.
"Fifteen cents. Best reserved seats twenty-five
cents.'
"I believe I will be extravagant for once," said
Phil, "and go at my own expense."
"Good!" said the signor huskily. "You'll feel
repaid I'll be bound. Bowerman always gives the
public their money's worth. The performance
begins at eight o'clock and won't be out until half-
past eleven."
"Less than five cents an hour," commented Phil.
"What a splendid head you've got!" said Signor
Orlando admiringly. "I couldn't have worked that
up. Figures ain't my province."
It seemed to Phil rather a slender cause for
compliment, but he said nothing, since it seemed clear
that the computation was beyond his companion's
ability.
As to the performance, it was not refined, nor was
the talent employed first-class. Still Phil enjoyed
himself after a fashion. He had never had it in his
power to attend many amusements, and this was
new to him. He naturally looked with interest for
the appearance of his new friend and fellow-lodger.
Signor Orlando appeared, dressed in gorgeous
array, sang a song which did credit to the loudness
of his voice rather than its quality, and ended by a
noisy clog-dance which elicited much applause from
the boys in the gallery, who shared the evening's
entertainment for the moderate sum of ten cents.
The signor was called back to the stage. He
bowed his thanks and gave another dance. Then he
was permitted to retire. As this finished his part of
the entertainment he afterward came around in
citizen's dress, and took a seat in the auditorium
beside Phil.
"How did you like me, Mr. Brent?" he asked
complacently.
"I thought you did well, Signor Orlando. You
were much applauded."
"Yes, the audience is very loyal," said the proud
performer.
Two half-grown boys heard Phil pronounce the
name of his companion, and they gazed awe-stricken
at the famous man.
"That's Signor Orlando!" whispered one of the
others.
"I know it," was the reply.
"Such is fame," said the Signor, in a pleased tone
to Phil. "People point me out on the streets."
"Very gratifying, no doubt," said our hero, but it
occurred to him that he would not care to be pointed
out as a performer at Bowerman's. Signor Orlando,
however, well-pleased with himself, didn't doubt
that Phil was impressed by his popularity, and
perhaps even envied it.
They didn't stay till the entertainment was over.
It was, of course, familiar to the signor, and Phil
felt tired and sleepy, for he had passed a part of the
afternoon in exploring the city, and had walked in
all several miles.
He went back to his lodging-house, opened the
door with a pass-key which Mrs. Schlessinger had
given him, and climbing to his room in the third story,
undressed and deposited himself in bed.
The bed was far from luxurious. A thin pallet
rested on slats, so thin that he could feel the slats
through it, and the covering was insufficient. The
latter deficiency he made up by throwing his overcoat
over the quilt, and despite the hardness of his
bed, he was soon sleeping soundly.
"To-morrow I must look for a place," he said to
Signor Orlando. "Can you give me any advise?"
"Yes, my dear boy. Buy a daily paper, the Sun
or Herald, and look at the advertisements. There
may be some prominent business man who is looking
out for a boy of your size."
- aspect [´æspekt]
n.面貌；神色；方向 (初中英语单词) - bureau [´bjuərəu] n.局；编辑部；事务所 (初中英语单词)
- extreme [ik´stri:m] a.尽头的 n.极端 (初中英语单词)
- contrast [´kɔntrɑ:st] n.对比 v.使对比(照) (初中英语单词)
- recommend [,rekə´mend] vt.推荐；使受欢迎 (初中英语单词)
- otherwise [´ʌðəwaiz] ad.另外 conj.否则 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- restaurant [´restərɔnt] n.饭店，菜馆 (初中英语单词)
- doubtless [´dautlis] ad.无疑地；大概，多半 (初中英语单词)
- obtain [əb´tein] v.获得；买到；得到承认 (初中英语单词)
- cabbage [´kæbidʒ] n.卷心菜；洋白菜 (初中英语单词)
- slender [´slendə] a.细长的；微薄的 (初中英语单词)
- performance [pə´fɔ:məns] n.履行；行为；工作 (初中英语单词)
- talent [´tælənt] n.天才；才干；天资 (初中英语单词)
- gallery [´gæləri] n.画廊；美术馆；长廊 (初中英语单词)
- moderate [´mɔdərit] a.适度的n.温和主义者 (初中英语单词)
- retire [ri´taiə] v.撤退；退职；退休 (初中英语单词)
- entertainment [,entə´teinmənt] n.招(款)待；联欢会 (初中英语单词)
- audience [´ɔ:diəns] n.听众；观众；接见 (初中英语单词)
- companion [kəm´pæniən] n.同伴；同事；伴侣 (初中英语单词)
- despite [di´spait] prep.尽管 (初中英语单词)
- sleeping [´sli:piŋ] n.&a.睡着(的) (初中英语单词)
- prominent [´prɔminənt] a.突起的；凸出的 (初中英语单词)
- unfortunately [ʌn´fɔ:tʃunitli] ad.不幸；不朽；可惜 (高中英语单词)
- landlady [´lænd,leidi] n.女房东；女店主 (高中英语单词)
- shudder [´ʃʌdə] n.&vi.震颤；发抖 (高中英语单词)
- respectable [ri´spektəbəl] a.可敬的；有身价的 (高中英语单词)
- extravagant [ik´strævəgənt] a.奢侈的；过度的 (高中英语单词)
- applause [ə´plɔ:z] n.鼓掌；欢呼；称赞 (高中英语单词)
- popularity [,pɔpju´læriti] n.普及；流行；名望 (高中英语单词)
- sleepy [´sli:pi] a.困的，想睡的 (高中英语单词)
- herald [´herəld] n.先驱；预兆 vt.预示 (高中英语单词)
- staircase [´steəkeis] n.楼梯 =stairway (英语四级单词)
- mouthful [´mauθful] n.一口；少量 (英语四级单词)
- superfluous [su:´pə:fluəs, sju:-] a.过剩的，多余的 (英语四级单词)
- refined [ri´faind] a.精制的；文雅的 (英语四级单词)
- luxurious [lʌg´zjuəriəs] a.奢侈的；豪华的 (英语四级单词)
- hardness [´hɑ:dnis] n.坚硬；严厉；难度 (英语四级单词)
- greasy [´gri:si] a.油腻的；润滑的 (英语六级单词)
- first-class [´fə:st-´klɑ:s] a.头等的 ad.乘头等车 (英语六级单词)
- performer [pə´fɔ:mə] n.执行者；表演者 (英语六级单词)
- insufficient [,insə´fiʃənt] a.不足的，无能的 (英语六级单词)
- deficiency [di´fiʃənsi] n.缺乏，不足，亏空 (英语六级单词)
文章标签:名著
章节正文
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