While Mrs. Wellington was rummaging her brain for a fitting retort, the door opened, and out stepped Miss Gattle, as was.
She blushed furiously at sight of the committee waiting to greet her, but they repented their criticisms and tried to make up for them by the excessive warmth with which they all exclaimed at once: "Good morning, Mrs. Lathrop!"
"Good morning, who?" said Anne, then blushed yet redder: "Oh, I can't seem to get used to that name! I hope I haven't kept you waiting?"
"Oh, not at all!" the women insisted, and Anne fled to number Six, remembered that this was no longer her home, and moved on to number One. Here the porter was just finishing his restoring tasks, and laying aside with some diffidence two garments which Anne hastily stuffed into her own valise.
Meanwhile Marjorie was pushing Mrs. Wellington ahead:
"You go in first, Mrs. Wellington."
"You go first. I have no husband waiting for me," said Mrs. Wellington.
"Oh, I insist," said Marjorie.
"I couldn't think of it," persisted Mrs. Wellington. "I won't allow you."
And then Mrs. Whitcomb pushed them both aside: "Pardon me, won't you? I'm getting off at Reno."