"I am quite serious," I said.
"You will be lonely there," said Lauretta's mother.
"You must remember," I said, "that until I came here I have lived a life of solitude."
"Have we not cured you of that?" she asked.
"Of the desire for a life of solitude? Yes. It is only that I am accustomed to it, and that it is not so irksome to me as it would be to others. But why talk of my being lonely unless you have decided to banish me from your society?"
"We shall be happy to have you here as often as you care to come," said Lauretta's mother. "Meanwhile you will remain with us, and we can be of assistance to you in settling yourself. Left to your own devices in arranging matters, you would make, I am afraid, a sad bungle of them."
It was settled so, and in a few days the keys of the house arrived, and we all set out together to inspect it. We found it charming, but very musty. Some of the rooms were spacious, some small and cosy. Of bedrooms there were at least a dozen, all amply furnished; but Lauretta's mother shook her head when she examined the linen, and declared that it would occupy some time and much labour to put it in order. I asked her to take direction of the affair, and she consented to do so. We decided which rooms were to be locked up and which used, and in which way the furniture was to be disposed of. The agents, in reply to my letter, had sent an inventory, which I would have taken for granted, but Lauretta's mother would not have it so, and chided me for my easiness.
"What would you have?" said Doctor Louis. "It was his misfortune to be born a man, and what does he knows of sheets and curtains and footstools?"
"He will not want footstools," said Lauretta's mother.
"Indeed I shall," I declared, "and everything feminine. Am I to be shut up here alone, without ever a visit from my friends?"