"They're all starched and damped down," said Mrs. Seymour, "and the irons is heating beautiful."
They turned from the door, and Meg prepared to run down-stairs.
"Not there!" exclaimed Mrs. Seymour. "Why, Meg, I live at the top."
"Oh," said Meg, laughing, "you must scold Jem for not telling me."
"Yes, I live at the top," Mrs. Seymour went on as they reached the landing, "because, you see, no one don't interfere with me up here. I hang my things across here, or I hoist them along this pole out o' window, and I can manage finely."
"Capital," said Meg heartily. "And have you both these rooms?"
"Yes, I rent both; but I have a lodger in one."
Meg made no answer, but followed Mrs. Seymour into the front room, where hung numerous lines close to the ceiling, with clean clothes airing away as fast as they could.
The fire was bright, and so were the irons; so were the tins on the shelf, and one or two covers on the wall. In the middle of the room stood a spotlessly white deal table, and across the window an ironing-board covered with a blanket and cloth, all ready for use.
"What a nice room!" said Meg. "Shall I begin now, mother?"