Chapter VI. Signor Orlando - Page 2

"I live on Fifth Street, near the Bowery--a very convenient location," said Orlando, if we may take the liberty to call him thus.

"Fifth Avenue?" asked Phil, who did not know the difference.

"Oh, no; that's a peg above my style. I am not a Vanderbilt, nor yet an Astor."

"Is the price moderate?" asked Phil anxiously. "I must make my money last as long as I can, for I don't know when I shall get a place."

"To be sure. You might room with me, only I've got a hall bedroom. Perhaps we might manage it, though."

"I think I should prefer a room by myself," said Phil, who reflected that Signor Orlando was a stranger as yet.

"Oh, well, I'll speak to the old lady, and I guess she can accommodate you with a hall bedroom like mine on the third floor."

"What should I have to pay?"

"A dollar and a quarter a week, and you can get your meals where you please."

"I think that will suit me," said Phil thoughtfully.

After leaving the car, a minute's walk brought them to a shabby three-story house of brick. There was a stable opposite, and a group of dirty children were playing in front of it.

"This is where I hang out," said Signor Orlando cheerfully. "As the poet says, there is no place like home."

If this had been true it was not much to be regretted, since the home in question was far from attractive.

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.