Coolidge looked annoyed, and said, “The moving would make up the difference of the rent.”
“Yes, but then we might get a better house for the same money up town; and by taking a lease—”
“You can’t take a house on lease,” answered her husband quickly, “these landlords have one so in their power.”
“But they will lease I know,” pursued Lucy, “for Mrs. Saville told me yesterday that they had taken their house for three years. The one next door is to rent on the same terms, with baths on every story, and some new contrivance by which all the coal is taken up stairs by turning some crank, or something or other,” continued Mrs. Coolidge with all the enthusiasm of a young housekeeper.
“Well, well,” interrupted Tom with some impatience, “we could not take it if the whole work of the house was performed by machinery instead of servants; for, to tell you the truth, Lucy,” he added gravely, “I am behind hand in the rent.”
“Behind hand in the rent!” exclaimed Lucy aghast.
“Yes, but you need not look so horror struck, Lucy, it’s only the last quarter. I should not like to leave, however, without having paid up every thing; so we must stay where we are for this year. Cranstoun is anxious we should, and so don’t trouble me about what is due; and upon the whole it is more convenient to pay fifty dollars more in the course of the year, than to move now.”
Lucy looked very serious, and then said,
“I am perfectly willing to stay here, Tom, but I really think we pay Cranstoun enough now; it’s unconscionable to ask more. Did you tell him about the new houses, and remind him that this has no baths?”
“No, my dear,” replied Tom, “you can’t expostulate with a man you owe. Next year we can do better, but for the present we must put up with it as it is.”