“To Boston!” Elithe repeated.
“Yes, to Boston,” Miss Hansford replied, “to get you some clothes that are clothes. Clarice Percy shan’t twit you any more with being old-fashioned. I’m going to have my gray silk made for Paul’s wedding, and you must have a gown to wear.”
“Oh, auntie, no; even if I am invited, which is doubtful, I do not want to go,” Elithe exclaimed, thinking that nothing could tempt her to see Clarice Percy married.
It was useless to oppose her aunt when her mind was made up, as it was now, and the next day they started for Boston on the early boat. Miss Hansford knew next to nothing of the city, and came near being run over at the crossings two or three times before she reached the Adams House.
“I want two rooms with a door between,—good ones, too,” she said, shaking her head fiercely at the office clerk after registering her own name and Elithe’s.
Naturally they showed her communicating rooms, with a bath, first floor front, looking on Washington Street.
“Oh, this is lovely!” Elithe cried, putting her head from the window and looking up and down the narrow street crowded with cars, vehicles and pedestrians.
It was her first experience in a big city, and she liked it. Her aunt, meanwhile, was haggling over the price of the rooms, which seemed to her exorbitant.
“And pay for what I eat besides? I’ll never do it!” she said to the attendant, who, knowing that he had what he called a case, smiled blandly and replied: “There are cheaper ones higher up and in the rear, but there’s no bath.”
“Bath!” Miss Hansford rejoined. “Who asked for a bath? I didn’t. Show me the rooms.”