“Forgive me, dear,” said Miss Mingle, “I forgot. I’ll prepare it immediately,” and she dropped what she was doing and hurried to the kitchen.
Mrs. Bergham arose and walked to the window seat, resting her elbows on some pillows. She wore a light blue dressing gown, made on simple lines, but so perfectly pretty that Dorothy and Tavia decided at once to make one like it immediately, on reaching home. The light blue shade brought out the clear blue-grey of her eyes, and her heavy dark lashes shaded the soft, white skin. She sighed, and asked the girls to sit with her in the window seat. In her presence Tavia felt very awkward, young and inexperienced, and she sat rather rigidly. Dorothy was more at ease and, too, more critical of their hostess. She listened to the quick, nervous steps of Miss Mingle as she hurried about the kitchen, preparing nourishment for her languid sister.
“There isn’t much view from this window,” said Tavia bluntly, more because she felt ill at ease than because she had expected to see something besides the tall, brown buildings across the street. The buildings were high, no sky could be seen from the window, and the sun did not seem to penetrate the long line of stone buildings across the way.
“Oh, there are disadvantages here, I know, but I’m so fond of just this one room. The house is in that part of the city most convenient to everything—that is, everything worth while, of course. So, sister decided it was best to stay here. However, the rent is enormous. It was that mostly which caused my breakdown. In six months time our rent has been doubled by the landlord. I got ill thinking about it, and I just had to send for sister. Sister’s salary isn’t so large, and the constant increase in our rent is a burden too great to bear.”
“I’d move,” said Tavia, promptly.
“But where would we find another place that meets all the requirements as this place does? If sister were always with me, we might come across something suitable some time, but alone, I am of little use in a business manner. Sister is so clever! She can do everything so much better than I. My illness is keeping me at home at present, and as my sister will return to school directly, there is really no time to look about for other quarters.” The sufferer said this quite decidedly.
“Who raises the rents?” Dorothy tried to ask the question naturally, but a lump seized her throat, and she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks.
“Oh, some agent. Several dozens of persons have bought and sold this house, according to Mr. Akerson, since we moved in.” The subject was evidently beginning to bore Mrs. Bergham, for she yawned. “What pretty hair you have, Miss Dale,” she exclaimed, “so much like the gold the poets sing about.”
Dorothy brushed back the tiny locks that persisted in hanging about her ears, and she smiled shyly.
“Can’t you refuse to pay the increases in the rent?” asked Dorothy.