Ira did some mental calculating and smiled. “That’s about three dollars a week, isn’t it?” he asked. “You’re certain that was the price?”
“Of course I’m certain. Three dollars was all I wanted to pay, and I told her so. She wanted four at first. Four dollars for this—this old poverty-stricken attic!”
“Oh, I wouldn’t be hard on it,” said Ira pleasantly. “I like it pretty well.”
“But it isn’t yours! Now you look here, Boland——”
“Rowland. And don’t let’s have any melodrama, please. We can come to a settlement if we don’t shout, I guess. What you agreed to and what Mrs. Magoon agreed to is no business of mine. That’s between you two. She says the room is mine. You say it’s yours. I’ve got it!”
“You haven’t any right——”
“Well, there’s the right of possession,” chuckled Ira. “Mind you, I’m inclined to believe your account of what took place, because—well, I’m beginning to doubt Mrs. Thingamabob’s—er—memory. But I think you left it pretty late to decide, Nead. If I’d been Mrs. Magoon I’d have considered myself released from that refusal by six o’clock; by seven, anyway. You couldn’t have got here until half-past, I guess.”
“I had to get something to eat and then find a man to fetch my trunk——”
“Yes, but you could have dropped around before and told her you’d take it. You see, Nead, if you hadn’t wanted it, and she had stood by her bargain until nearly eight, she might not have rented it at all. There’s that to consider.”
“Oh, you make me tired! You talk like a—like a lawyer! She said I could have the room and I’ve come for it and that’s all there is to it!”