"Why—oh, that was only Abel Plornish."
"Abel Plornish!"
"Yep. Poor, useless creature," said the boy, with disgust. "Or, so father says. He knew Abel in England. You know, father came from London before he was married," and Griff smiled.
"But this man—are you sure his name is Plornish?"
"Quite, Jess. Why, he plays the violin, or the piano, in some cheap moving picture place, I believe."
"Then he is a musician?" demanded Jess, breathlessly.
"And a bad one, I reckon. But he has done other things. He's been on the stage. And he's even worked in the Centerport Opera House, I believe."
"And that is really his name?" asked Jess.
"It's an awful one, isn't it? Plornish! Nothing very romantic or fancy about that," laughed Griff. "Now, what else, Jess?"
Jess was so disturbed by this discovery that she could only think to ask Griff one more question. That related to where Plornish lived.
"Somewhere on Governor Street. I think it's Number 9. Tenement house. Oh, they're poor, and I believe when he gets any money he spends
