"What do you want?" repeated his wife.
"I called," said Mr. Hatchard, clearing his throat—"I called about the bill in the window."
Mrs. Hatchard clutched at the door-post.
"Well?" she gasped.
"I'd like to see the rooms," said the other.
"But you ain't a single young man," said his wife, recovering.
"I'm as good as single," said Mr. Hatchard. "I should say, better."
"You ain't young," objected Mrs. Hatchard. "I'm three years younger than what you are," said Mr. Hatchard, dispassionately.