I told her I worked in my room, and that I would make a studio out of it. Whereupon she said:
“I prefer ladies who go out to work. I had one lady here before, and I had to put her out. She stayed in bed till eleven and I found cigarette ashes in her room. Then she had some gentlemen callers, and they actually shut the door. As this is a respectable house, I went into the back parlor and watched her through a crack in the folding doors. Then I goes back and raps on the door, and I says: ‘Young person’—I wouldn’t call the likes of her a lady—I says: ‘Young person, I want my room. I’m a lone widow woman and I have to consider my reputation, and the carryings on in that room is what I won’t have in my house.’ So out she goes. I am a lady, even if I do keep a rooming-house.”
I looked at Lu, and Lu said:
“We’ll call again.”
“Oh,” said the woman, “if you decide to take this room I’ll make a reduction, and I don’t mind gentlemen callers if you leave the door open.”
I felt a sort of disgust come over me and, telling her I did not want the room, I made for the door, hurrying Lu along.
“Oh, I see,” she shouted after us, “you want to shut the door!”
After looking about, we found a back parlor in a French-Canadian house on University Street. The landlady was very polite, and I paid her eight dollars in advance.
The following day I moved all my things into the “studio,” as it now, in fact, began to look like, what with all my paintings about and some of papa’s, an easel, palette and painting materials. I covered up the ugly couch with some draperies the Count sent over for me. Poor old fellow, he had sent word to me the very next day to come back, saying he missed his little pupil very much, but at Reggie’s advice I wrote him that I had taken a studio of my own. He then sent me a lot of draperies and other things, and wrote that he would come to see me very soon.
I had a sign painted on black japanned tin, with the following inscription: