“Fine! Come along, Rowland. Remember that Doctor Lane was very particular about having you let him know what you decided on. He will be anxious. Back in an hour, Mrs. Magoon.”
“If you’d care to see the bathroom—” began Mrs. Magoon as they descended.
“Not now,” said Johnston, shoving Ira along toward the next flight. “I’m sure it’s absolutely perfect, ma’am.” When they were once more on the street he turned sorrowfully to Ira. “You shouldn’t have let yourself in for the breakfasts, old man,” he said. “They’re fierce. I tried to give you the sign, but you wouldn’t look. Still, you can cut them out after a week or so. They all do.”
“I dare say the room will look better when there’s more in it,” said Ira.
“Rather! You’ll be crazy about it, old man.”
“Or in it,” said Ira drily. Johnston preferred not to notice the remark.
“And three-fifty isn’t bad these days, either.”
“I guess I’d rather pay her what she asked, Johnston. She says she never let it for so little, and——”
“Yes, but her memory’s failing her. Johnny Grew had that room two years ago, and I happen to remember that he paid exactly three and a half for it. Besides, she’ll make it up on the breakfasts. Now let’s run around to Jacobs’ and see what we can pick up. Better leave the buying to me, old man, for in spite of being a Maine Yankee, you’re a mighty poor bargainer!”