Sarah Gailey was at that stage of unpacking when, trunks being nearly empty and drawers having scarcely begun to fill, bed, table, and chairs are encumbered with confused masses of goods apparently far exceeding the cubical contents of the trunks.
"Can I do anything for you?" asked Hilda.
The new landlady raised her watery and dejected eyes. "If you wouldn't mind taking every single one of those knick-knacks off the mantelpiece and putting them away on the top shelf of the cupboard--"
Hilda smiled. "It's a bit crowded, isn't it?"
"Crowded!" By her intonation of this one word Sarah Gailey condemned Mrs. Granville's whole life.
"Can I empty this chair? I shall want something to stand on," said Hilda.
"Better see if the shelf's dusty," Sarah gloomily warned her.
"Well," murmured Hilda, on the chair. "If my feather doesn't actually touch the ceiling!" Sarah Gailey made no response to this light-heartedness, and Hilda, with her hands full of vain gewgaws, tried again: "I wonder what Mrs. Granville would say if she saw me!... My word, it's quite hot up here!"
A resonant, very amiable voice came from beyond the door: "Is she there?"
"Who?" demanded Sarah, grievous.