And I'm afraid those people down stairs disturb
you somewhat."
"They make some stir in the evening, sir; and it's rather loud in the
street sometimes, at night. The folks on the lower floors are troubled
a good deal, they say."
Well they may be. Listen to the bawling outside, now, cold as it is.
Hark! A hoarse group on the opposite sidewalk beginning a
song,--"Ro-o-l on, sil-ver mo-o-n--" The silver moon ceases to roll
in a sudden explosion of yells and laughter, sending up broken
fragments of curses, ribald jeers, whoopings, and cat-calls, high into
the night air. "Ga-l-a-ng! Hi-hi! What ye-e-h _'bout_!"
"This is outrageous, Mrs. Miller. Where's the watchman?"
She smiled faintly; "He takes one of them off occasionally, sir; but
he's afraid; they beat him sometimes." A long pause.
"Isn't your room rather cold, Mrs. Miller?" He glanced at the black
stove, dimly seen in the outer room. "It is necessary to keep the rooms
cool just now, but this air seems to me cold."
Receiving no answer, he looked at her, and saw the sad truth in her
averted face.
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