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 parlor, 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 neighborhood. 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 room it is?"
"Why, not so very," returned the guest. "I'm afraid I couldn't afford a very grand one."