CHAPTER 15
An Obdurate Landlord
Twenty minutes later when Mr. Downing roared "_Come in_" in theterrifying voice he usually reserved for agents and other unexpected orunwelcome visitors, he was plainly very much surprised to see four palegirls with shocked, reproachful eyes file in and come to an embarrassedstandstill just inside the office door, which closed of its own accordand left them imprisoned with the enemy. They waited quietly.
"Oh, good morning," said he, in a much milder tone, as he swung about inhis revolving chair. "What can I do for you? Have you brought the key sosoon?"
"We came," said Jean, propelled suddenly forward by a vigorous push fromthe rear, "to see you about Dandelion Cottage. We think you've made amistake."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Downing, who did not at any time like to beconsidered mistaken. "Suppose you explain."
So sweet-voiced Jean explained all about digging the dandelions to paythe rent, about Mr. Black's giving them the key at the end of the week,and about all the lovely times they had had and were still hoping tohave in their precious cottage before giving it up for the winter.
Mr. Downing, personally, did not like Mr. Black. He had a poor opinionof the older man's business ability, and perhaps a somewhat exaltedopinion of his own. He considered Mr. Black old-fashioned and far tooeasy-going. He felt that parish affairs were more likely to flourish inthe hands of a younger, shrewder, and more modern person, and he had anidea that he was that person. At any rate, now that Mr. Black was out oftown, Mr. Downing was glad of an opportunity to display his own superiorshrewdness. He would show the vestry a thing or two, and incidentallyincrease the parish income, which as everybody knew stood greatly inneed of increasing. He had no patience with slipshod methods. He wastruly sorry when business matters compelled him to appear hard-hearted;but to him it seemed little short of absurd for a man of Mr. Black'syears to waste on four small girls a cottage that might be bringing in acomfortable sum every month in the year.
"Now that's a very pretty little story," said Mr. Downing, when Jean hadfinished. "But, you see, you've already had the cottage more than longenough to pay you for pulling those few weeds."
"_Few!_" exclaimed Mabel, in indignant protest and forgetting herpromise of silence. "_Few!_ Why, there were _billions_ of 'em. If we'dbeen paid two cents a hundred for them, we'd all be _rich_. Mr. Blackpromised us we could have that cottage for all summer and our renthasn't half perspired yet."
"She means _ex_pired," explained Marjory, "but she's right for once. Mr.Black did say we could stay there all summer, and it isn't quite Augustyet, you know."
"Hum," said Mr. Downing. "Nobody said anything to _me_ about any sucharrangement, and I'm keeping the books. I don't know what Mr. Blackcould have been thinking of if he made any such foolish promise as that.Of course it's not binding. Why, that cottage ought to be renting forten or twelve dollars a month!"
"But the plaster's very bad," pleaded Bettie, eagerly, "and the roofleaks in every room in the house but one, and something's the matterunderneath so it's too cold for folks to live in during the winter. Itwas vacant for a long time before _we_ had it."
"It looked very comfortable to _me_," said Mr. Downing, who had lived inthe town for only a few months and neither knew nor suspected the realcondition of the house. "I'm afraid your arrangement with Mr. Blackdoesn't hold good. Mr. Morgan and I think it best to have the housevacated at once. You see, we're in danger of losing the rent from thenext house, because the Milligans have threatened to move out if youdon't."
"If--if seven dollars and a half would do you any good," said Mabel,"and if you're mean enough to take all the money we've got in thisworld--"
"I'm not," said Mr. Downing. "I'm only reasonable, and I want you to bereasonable too. You must look at this thing from a business standpoint.You see, the rent from those two houses should bring in twenty-fivedollars a month, which isn't more than a sufficient return for the moneyinvested. The taxes--"
"A note for you, Mr. Downing," said a boy, who had quietly opened theoffice door.
"Why," said Mr. Downing, when he had read the note, "this is reallyquite a remarkable coincidence. This communication is from Mr. Milligan,who has found a desirable tenant for the cottage he is now in, andwishes, himself, to occupy the cottage you are going to vacate. Veryclever idea on Mr. Milligan's part. This will save him five dollars amonth and is a most convenient arrangement all around. He wishes to movein at once."
"Mr. Milligan!" gasped three of the astonished girls.
"Those Milligans in _our_ house!" cried Mabel. "Well, _isn't_ that theworst!"
"You see," said Mr. Downing, "it is really necessary for you to move atonce. I think you had better begin without further loss of time. Goodmorning, good morning, all of you, and please believe me, I'm sorryabout this, but it can't be helped."
"I hope," said Mabel, summoning all her dignity for a parting shot,"that you'll never live long enough to regret this--this outrage. Thereare seven rolls of paper on the walls of that cottage that belong to us,and we expect to be paid for every one of them."
"How much?" asked Mr. Downing, suppressing a smile, for Mabel was nevermore amusing than when she was very angry.
"Five cents a roll--thirty-five cents altogether."
Mr. Downing gravely reached into his trousers pocket, fished up ahandful of loose change, scrupulously counted out three dimes and anickel, and handed them to Mabel, who, with averted eyes and chin heldunnecessarily high, accepted the price of the Blossom wall paperhaughtily, and, following the others, stalked from the office.
The unhappy girls could not trust themselves to talk as they hastenedhomeward. They held hands tightly, walking four abreast along the quietstreet, and barely managed to keep the tears back and the rapidlyswelling lumps in their little throats successfully swallowed untilJean's trembling fingers had unlocked the cottage door.
Then, with one accord, they rushed pell-mell for the blue-room bed,hurled themselves upon its excelsior pillows, and burst into tears. Jeanand Bettie cried silently but bitterly; Marjory wept audibly, with long,shuddering sobs; but Mabel simply bawled. Mabel always did her crying onthe excellent principle that, if a thing were worth doing at all, it wasworth doing well. She was doing it so well on this occasion that Jean,who seldom cried and whose puffed, scarlet eyelids contrasted oddly andrather pathetically with her colorless cheeks, presently sat up toremonstrate.
"Mabel!" she said, slipping an arm about the chief mourner, "do you wantthe Milligans to hear you? We're on their side of the house, you know."
Jean couldn't have used a better argument. Mabel stopped short in themiddle of one of her very best howls, sat up, and shook her headvigorously.
"Well, I just guess I don't," said she. "I'd die first!"
"I thought so," said Jean, with just a faint glimmer of a smile. "Wemustn't let those people guess how awfully we care. Go bathe your eyes,Mabel--there must be a little warm water in the tea kettle."
Then the comforter turned to Bettie, and made the appeal that was mostlikely to reach that always-ready-to-help young person.
"Come, Bettie dear, you've cried long enough. We must get to work, forwe've a tremendous lot to do. Don't you suppose that, if we had all thethings packed in baskets or bundles, we could get a few of your brothersto help us move out after dark? I just _can't_ let those Milligans gloatover us while we go back and forth with things."
Bettie's only response was a sob.
"Where in the world can we put the things?" asked Marjory, sitting upsuddenly and displaying a blotched and swollen countenance very unlikeher usual fair, rose-tinted face. "Of course we can each take our dollsand books home, but our furniture--"
"I'm going to ask Mother if we can't store it upstairs in our barn. I'msure she'll let us."
"Oh, I _wish_ Mr. Black were here. It doesn't seem possible we'vereally got to move. There _must_ be some way out of it. Oh, Bettie,_couldn't_ we write to Mr. Black?"
"It would take too-oo-oo long," sobbed
Bettie, sitting up and moppingher eyes with the muslin window curtain, which she could easily reachfrom the foot of the bed. "He's way off in Washington. Oh, dear--oh,dear--oh, dear!"
"Why couldn't we telegraph?" demanded Marjory, with whom hope died hard."Telegrams go pretty fast, don't they?"
"They cost terribly," said Bettie. "They're almost as expensive asexpress packages. Still, we might find out what it costs."
"I dow the telegraph-mad," wheezed Mabel from the wash-basin. "I'll gohobe ad telephode hib ad ask what it costs--I've heard by father givehib bessages lots of tibes. Oh, by, by dose is all stuffed up."
"Try a handkerchief," suggested Jean. "Go ask, if you want to; it won'tdo any harm, nor probably any good."
Mabel ran home, taking care to keep her back turned toward the Milliganhouse. During her brief absence, the girls bathed their eyes and madesundry other futile attempts to do away with all outward signs of grief.
"He says," cried Mabel, bursting in excitedly, "that sixty cents is theregular price in the daytime, but it's forty cents for a night message.It seems kind of mean to wake folks up in the middle of the night justto save twenty cents, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said Bettie. "I couldn't be impolite enough to do that to anybodyI like as well as I like Mr. Black. If we haven't money enough to send adaytime message, we mustn't send any."
"Well, we haven't," said Jean. "We've only thirty-five cents."
"And we wouldn't have had that," said Mabel, "if I hadn't rememberedthat wall paper just in the nick of time."
Strangely enough, not one of the girls thought of the money in the bank.Perhaps it did not occur to them that it would be possible to remove anyportion of their precious seven dollars and a half without withdrawingit all; they knew little of business matters. Nor did they think ofappealing to their parents for aid at this crisis. Indeed, they were alltoo dazed by the suddenness and tremendousness of the blow to think veryclearly about anything. The sum needed seemed a large one to the girls,who habitually bought a cent's worth of candy at a time from thegenerous proprietor of the little corner shop. Mabel, the only one withan allowance, was, to her father's way of thinking, a hopeless littlespendthrift, already deeply plunged in debt by her unpaid fines forlateness to meals.
The Tucker income did not go round even for the grown-ups, so of coursethere were few pennies for the Tucker children. Marjory's Aunty Jane hadideas of her own on the subject of spending-money for littlegirls--Marjory did not suspect that the good but rather austere womanmade a weekly pilgrimage to the bank for the purpose of religiouslydepositing a small sum in her niece's name; and, if she had known it,Marjory would probably have been improvident enough to prefer spot cashin smaller amounts. Only that morning tender-hearted Jean had heardpatient Mrs. Mapes lamenting because butter had gone up two cents apound and because all the bills had seemed larger than those of thepreceding month--Jean always took the family bills very much to heart.
The girls sorrowfully concluded that there was nothing left for them todo but to obey Mr. Downing. They had looked forward with dread to givingup the cottage when winter should come, but the idea of losing it inmidsummer was a thousand times worse.
"We'll just have to give it up," said grieved little Bettie. "There'snothing else we _can_ do, with Mr. Black away. When I go home tonightI'll write to him and apologize for not being able to keep our promiseabout the dinner party. That's the hardest thing of all to give up."
"But you don't know his address," objected Jean.
"Yes, I do, because Father wrote to him about some church business thismorning, before going away, and gave Dick the letter to mail. Of courseDick forgot all about it and left it on the hall mantelpiece. It'sprobably there yet, for I'm the only person that ever remembers to mailFather's letters--he forgets them himself most of the time."
"Now let's get to work," said Jean. "Since we have to move let's pretendwe really want to. I've always thought it must be quite exciting toreally truly move. You see, we _must_ get it over before the Milligansguess that we've begun, and there isn't any too much time left. I'llbegin to take down the things in the parlor and tie them up in thebedclothes. We'll leave all the curtains until the last so that no onewill know what we're doing."
"I'll help you," said Bettie.
"Mabel and I might be packing the dishes," said Marjory. "It will beeasier to do it while we have the table left to work on. Come along,Mabel."
Mabel followed obediently. When the forlorn pair reached the kitchen,Marjory announced her intention of exploring the little shed for emptybaskets, leaving Mabel to stack the cups and plates in compact piles.Mabel, without knowing just why she did it, picked up her old friend,the cracked lemonade-pitcher and gave it a little shake. Somethingrattled. Mabel, always an inquisitive young person, thrust her fingersinto the dusty depths to bring up a piece of money--two pieces--threepieces--four pieces.
"Oh," she gasped, "it's my lemonade money! Oh, what a lucky omen!Girls!"
The next instant Mabel clapped a plump, dusty hand over her own lips tokeep them from announcing the discovery, and then, stealthily concealingthe twenty cents in the pocket that still contained the wall-papermoney, she stole quickly through the cottage and ran to her own home.