The real estate agent colored, probably from annoyance.
"No, Mr. Crane," he answered proudly, "you do not, as far as I know, have to do anything you do not wish to do. What I was about to say was that the children have no authority to alter the price determined by their parents. To my mind, however, it is not a question of absolute value. There is no doubt that you can find newer and more conveniently appointed houses in the hunting district—certainly cheaper ones, if price be such an object. But the Revelly family—one of the most aristocratic families south of Mason and Dixon's, sir—would not be induced to consider renting under the sum originally named."
"It's pretty steep," said the young man, but his mild tone already betrayed him. "And how about servants?"
"Ah," said Reed, looking particularly mask-like, "servants! That has been the great difficulty. To guarantee domestic service that will satisfy your difficult Northern standards—"
"I am fussy about only two things," said Crane, "cooking and boots. Must have my boots properly done."
"If you could have brought your own valet—"
"But I told you he has typhoid fever. Now, see here, Mr. Reed, there really isn't any use wasting my time and yours. If you have not been able to get me a staff of servants with the house, I wouldn't dream of taking it. I thought we had made that clear."
Reed waved his impatient client again to his chair.
"There are at this moment four well-recommended servants yonder in the back office, waiting to be interviewed."
"By me?" exclaimed Crane, looking slightly alarmed.