“I plead guilty only to searching for you.” Ethel’s gay laugh was infectious. “Tell me, is ‘Blue Beard’s chamber’ where Cousin Walter abides?”
“Mercy, no.” Mrs. Ogden tucked her hand inside Ethel’s. “‘Blue Beard’s Chamber’ is the raison d’être of our being here. On account of it Walter was offered the house at a ridiculously low rental—one hundred and fifty dollars a month.”
“One hundred and fifty for this!” Ethel’s voice was raised in a crescendo of astonishment, and her eyes swept the well proportioned hallway and the vista of spacious rooms opening from it, and the handsome stairway down which they were passing. “Is there a ‘harnt,’ as the darkies say, in ‘Blue Beard’s Chamber,’ or is the house considered unlucky that the owners give it away?”
“Neither—a much less romantic reason. The owner, what is his name? Never mind, Walter attends to all that”—with placid disregard of details. “The owner is a divorcé who, owing to some technicality of the decree, must keep his legal residence in Washington; so he leases this house for a song, with the proviso that he is permitted to keep a bedroom containing his personal belongings and occupy it occasionally.”
“But, Cousin Jane, how unpleasant!” ejaculated Ethel. “Suppose he elects to spend the winter with you?”
“Well, at that, my dear, we’d be saving money.” Mrs. Ogden straightened a rug on the handsome hardwood floor. “It’s a wonderful house for the money, and you know nothing pleases Walter so much as to save.”
Mrs. Ogden’s frank discussion of family traits and failings was apt to prove disconcerting and Ethel colored with embarrassment.
“I think it is perfectly dear of you to take me in this winter,” she began, but Mrs. Ogden cut her short.
“Don’t look at it in that light, my dear,” she said with kindly intent. “Both Walter and I are devoted to you, and I am looking forward to your companionship this winter. Walter is so immersed in business, and he never will assist me in my social duties.”
“Late again, Jane,” announced a querulous voice as they entered the dining room, and Walter Ogden looked up from behind the folds of a morning paper. “I hope, Ethel, you will teach Jane punctuality.”