“How dreadful!” breathed Hildegarde. In truth it had a morgue-like sound.
“No—o,” he drawled. “No—o. Me and Mrs. Blumpitty, we do kind o’ miss it, not havin’ any winder. It’s only a closet though,” he said, as if not wishing to hurt the feelings of anything so small and unpretentious. “And the rest of our people are all right. Some parties have had to mix up, but I been able to get a room for the men, and”—he spoke with a weary pride—“and one for the ladies.”
“Ladies in your party!” exclaimed Harry.
“Ya-as. Five, not countin’ Mrs. Blumpitty.”
“What kind?” demanded Mrs. Mar, at the same moment as Harry asked, “What are they going to do up there?”
“Oh, they’re all right,” said Blumpitty, thinking he answered both. “Miss Leroy Schermerhorn’s goin’ to keep the books, and be secretary and business woman to the Company.”
“What company?” says Mrs. Mar.
“Blumpitty & Co.,” says Mr. Blumpitty.
“Bless my soul!” says Mrs. Mar.
“Remember Mr. Dorn,” whispered Hildegarde.