A small lady with prematurely gray hair appeared. “I came to ask about the room,” Florence said in as steady a tone as she could command.
Next instant she found herself in a house that made her feel very large. The hall was narrow, the doors low, the rooms tiny.
“This is the room.” She was led to what seemed the smallest of the four rooms.
“But this is already occupied.” She looked first at the display of simple toilet articles on the dresser, then at the half-filled closet.
“Oh yes, our daughter Verna has it now,” the little lady hastened to explain. “But she—she’s to sleep in our—our general room.”
“The one they use for parlor, living room and dining room,” Florence thought to herself. “How terrible!”
She was about to say politely, “I guess I wouldn’t be interested,” when a young and slender girl of surprising beauty stepped into the doorway.
“Here is Verna now,” her mother said simply.
“Yes, here she is,” some imp appeared to whisper in Florence’s ear, “and you are going to take this room. You will have to now. You are going to buy a small bed and share the room with this beautiful child. You will cast your lot with this little family. You have seen her. It is too late to turn back now.”
Perhaps if he had been a very wise imp he might have added, “This step you are taking now will bring you into grave danger, but that does not matter. You will take the room all the same, and like it.” But the imp, being of a very ordinary sort, did not say this.