"Three," she replied. "My husband, my sister Pearl, and myself. We shall keep our boy Jack in the country."
"Why, you can have a floor apiece," I declared cheerfully. "Just look at the elevation."
Mrs. Radigan raised her lorgnette and looked, but seemed to see nothing, though her gaze was intense and her brow knitted.
"The entire fourth floor, you see, could be used by Miss Radigan," I ventured softly, to arouse her from her mood of abstraction.
"Miss Ve-al," said she, suddenly abandoning the lorgnette and getting down under bare eyes to solve the mystery of the blueprint. "Is that funny white line the design of the wall-paper?"
"It's the stairs," I explained. "As I suggested, Miss Veal——"
"Ve-al," she corrected, looking up sharply. "V-e, ve—a-l, al—Ve-al. It's French."
"Pardon me," said I abjectly. "Your sister, Miss Ve-al, could have——"
"Oh, don't bother about the old plans," she cried, gently pushing the paper from her. "It gives me a headache to try to make them out. I'm sure you had them upside down. But I'll take your word for it that there's plenty of room to live in. But how about entertaining? How can one entertain in a box like that?"