Dandelion Cottage/Chapter 6
CHAPTER VI
A Lodger To The Rescue
One afternoon, when Jean was rearranging the dining room pictures—they had to be rearranged very frequently—and when Mabel and Marjory were busy putting fresh papers on the pantry shelves, there was a ring at the doorbell.
Bettie, who had been dusting the parlour, pushed the chairs into place, threw her duster into the dining room and ran to the door. A lady—Bettie described her afterwards as a "middle-aged young lady with the sweetest dimple"—stood on the doorstep.
"Is your mother at home?" asked the lady, smiling pleasantly at Bettie, who liked the stranger at once.
"She—she doesn't live here," said Bettie, taken by surprise.
"Perhaps you can tell me what I want to know. I'm a stranger in town and I want to rent a room in this neighbourhood. I am to have my meals at Mrs. Baker's but she hasn't any place for me to sleep. I don't want anything very expensive, but of course I'd be willing to pay a fair price. Do you know of anybody with rooms to rent? I'm to be in town for three weeks."
Bettie shook her head, reflectively. "No, I don't believe I do, unless"
Bettie paused to look inquiringly at Jean, who, framed by the dining room doorway, was nodding her head vigorously.
"Perhaps Jean does," finished Bettie.
"Are you very particular," asked Jean, coming forward, "about what kind of a room it is?"
"Why, not so very," returned the guest. "I'm afraid I couldn't afford a very grand one."
"Are you very timid?" asked Bettie, who had suddenly guessed what Jean had in mind. "I mean are you afraid of burglars and mice and things like that?"
"Why, most persons are, I imagine," said the young woman, whose eyes were twinkling pleasantly. "Are there a great many mice and burglars in this neighbourhood?"
"Mice," said Jean, "but not burglars—It's a very honest neighbourhood. I think I have an idea, but you see there are four of us and I'll have to consult the others about it, too. Sit here, please, in the cosey corner—it's the safest piece of furniture we have. Now if you'll excuse us just a minute we'll go to the kitchen and talk it over."
"Certainly," murmured the lady, who looked a trifle embarrassed at encountering the gaze of the forty-two staring dolls that sat all around the parlour with their backs against the baseboard. "I hope I haven't interrupted a party."
"Not at all," assured Bettie, with her best company manner.
"Girls," said Jean, when she and Bettie were in the kitchen with the door carefully closed behind them, "would you be willing to rent the front bedroom to a clean, nice looking lady if she'd be willing to take it? She wants to pay for a room, she says, and she looks very polite and pleasant, doesn't she, Bettie?"
"Yes," corroborated Bettie, "I like her. She has kind of twinkling brown eyes and such nice dimples."
"You see," explained Jean, "the money would pay for Mr. Black's dinner."
"Why, so it would," cried Marjory. "Let's do it."
"Yes," echoed Mabel, "for goodness' sake, let's do it. It's only three weeks, anyway, and what's three weeks!
"How would it be," asked Marjory, cautiously, "to take her on approval? Aunty Jane always has hats and things sent on approval, so she can send them back if they don't fit."
"Splendid!" cried Mabel. "If she doesn't fit Dandelion Cottage, she can't stay."
"Oh," gurgled Marjory, "what a dinner we'll give Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane. We'll have ice cream and"
"Huh!" said Mabel, "most likely she won't take the room at all. Anyhow, probably she's got tired of waiting and has gone."
"We'll go and see," said Jeaa. "Come on, everybody."
The lady, however, still sat on the hard, lumpy cosey-corner, with her toes just touching the ground.
"Well," said she, smiling at the flock of girls, "how about the idea?"
The other three looked expectantly at Jean; Mabel nudged her elbow and Bettie nodded at her.
"You talk," said Marjory, "you're the oldest."
"It's like this," explained Jean, "this house isn't good enough to rent to grown-ups because it's all out of repair, so they've lent it to us for the summer for a playhouse. The back of it leaks dreadfully when it rains, and the plaster is all down in the kitchen, but the front bedroom is really very nice—if you don't mind having four kinds of carpet on the floor. This is a very safe neighbourhood, no tramps or anything like that, and if you're not an awfully timid person, perhaps you wouldn't mind staying alone at night."
"If you did," added Bettie, "probably one of us could sleep in the other room unless it happened to rain—it rains right down on the bed."
"Could I go upstairs to look at the room?" asked the young woman,
"There isn't any upstairs," said Bettie, pulling back a curtain, "the room's right here."
"Why! What a dear little room—all white and blue."
"I hope you don't mind having children around," said Marjory, somewhat anxiously. "You see, we'd have to play in the rest of the house."
"Of course," added Jean, hastily, "if you had company you could use the parlour"
"And the front steps," said Bettie.
"I'm very fond of children," said the young lady, "and I don't expect to have any company but you because I don't know anybody here. I shall be away every day until about five o'clock because I am here with my father who is tuning church organs, and I have to help him. I strike the notes while he works behind the organ. He has a room at Mrs. Baker's, but she didn't have any place to put me. I think I should like this little room very much indeed—now, how much are you going to charge me for it?"
Jean looked at Bettie, and Bettie looked at the other two.
"I don't know," said Jean, at last.
"Neither do I," said Bettie.
"Would—would a dollar a week be too much?" asked Marjory.
"It wouldn't be enough," said the young woman, promptly. "My father pays five for the room he has, but it's really a larger room than he wanted. I should be very glad to give you two dollars and a half a week—I'm sure I couldn't find a furnished room anywhere for less than that. Can I move in to-night? I've nothing but a small trunk."
"Ye—es," said Bettie, looking inquiringly at Jean. "I think we could get it ready by seven o'clock. It's all perfectly clean, but you see we'll have to change things around a little and fix up the wash-stand."
"I'm sure," said the visitor, turning to depart, "that it all looks quite lovely just as it is. You may expect me at seven."