"Any room," he answered.
He rushed into his private sanctum, and locked the door with violence. In this refuge he had a violent tussle with his temper. The tramping of strange feet was heard all over the hitherto silent house. The poor little man sat down on the nearest chair, and looked the very picture of abject misery. He was far too unhappy even to think of dinner. By and by, the sounds of alien feet died away. The men slammed the door behind them, and drove off in the now empty furniture van; the rabble of boys and girls melted out of sight. Danvers was beginning to breathe, when a somewhat timid ring was heard at the front door. His smoldering ire burst forth afresh; he strode to open it with his spectacles on the middle of his forehead. A stout, elderly woman was standing on the steps; she dropped a profound courtesy.
"Your business!" he said abruptly.
"If you please sir, I've come to offer for the situation."
"What do you mean?"
"Seeing as you're expecting company, sir, and it's known that the place is vacant——"
"There is no place vacant," interrupted Danvers; "you can go. I don't require your services."
He slammed the door rudely, and went back to his parlor.
The stout woman's appearance, however, had set him thinking; he saw a fresh woe ahead of him. He had taken steps to furnish a room for the boys, but who was to cook their breakfast, and dinner, and supper, and make their beds, and in short do the sort of things which women, in his opinion, were sent into the world for?