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.
His wife's lips tightened and her hand closed on the door; Mr. Hatchard put his foot in.
“If you don't want lodgers, why do you put a bill up?” he inquired.
“I don't take the first that comes,” said his wife.