"Well his room's at the head of the stairs, to your right."
Anderson twisted his whiskers in momentary perplexity.
"Might be better if you asked him to come down."
"Ask him yourself," she said. "I don't want to see him."
Marshal Crow made a mental reservation to yank Mrs. Bloomer up before Justice Robb the next time she left the garbage can standing on the sidewalk overnight.
He hesitated about going up to the guest's bedroom. It wasn't quite the legal thing to do. The more he thought of it, the longer he hesitated. In fact, while he was about it, he thought he would draw a chair up to the big sheet-iron stove and sit down.
"Won't you take off your overcoat and goloshes?" inquired the landlady, but in a far from hospitable manner.
"How long has this feller been here?" demanded Anderson, moving his left foot a little, but not quite far enough to avoid the broom.
"Last night."
"Um-m! What's his name and where's he from?"