It was very funny.
That dear little woman gave the heartache to many a lordly janitor before we wound up the day.
Her remarks were so refreshing.
Now, at the very first place we examined I heard her give utterance to a genuinely feminine squeal of delight.
"Why, isn't this just too cute for anything—the dearest little linen closet I ever saw. Now, this is what I call sensible," she said, enthusiastically.
"Excuse me," said the agent, coldly, "but that is not a linen closet, lady; that's the dining-room."
After that I watched Mrs. Suburb eagerly, for somehow I conceived the idea that she was in for a good time.
At another place there were limited accommodations, and when my wife talked of putting Aleck to sleep in the parlor on a wire couch, I entered my solemn protest.
"The boycott is a relic of barbarism," I declared; and that settled our chances of taking that flat.