Part 14 (2/2)

”I shan't need any man, thank you,” protested Mr. Gray.

When, after lingering a minute or two, their young host had bade them good-night and left them, the elderly pair looked at each other. Uncle Rufus's eyes were twinkling, but in his wife's showed a touch of soft indignation.

”It seems like making a joke of us,” said she, ”to put us in such a place as this, when he can guess what we're used to.”

”He doesn't mean it as a joke,” her husband protested good-humouredly.

”He wants to give us the best he's got. I don't mind a mite. To be sure, I could get along with one looking-gla.s.s to shave myself in, but it's kind of interesting to know how many some folks think necessary when they aren't limited. Let's go look in our sleeping-room. Maybe that's a little less princely.”

Aunt Ruth limped slowly across the Persian carpet, and stood still in the doorway of the room Richard had designated as hers. Uncle Rufus stared in over her small shoulder.

”Well, well,” he chuckled. ”I reckon Napoleon Bonaparte wouldn't have thought this any too fine for him, but it sort of dazzles me. I'm glad somebody's got that bed ready to sleep in. I shouldn't have been sure 'twas meant for that, if they hadn't. There seems to be another room on behind this one--what's that?”

He marched across and looked in. ”Now, if I was rich, I wouldn't mind having one of these opening right out of my room. What there isn't in here for keeping yourself clean can't be thought of.”

”Rufus,” said his wife solemnly, following him into the white-tiled bathroom, ”I want you should look at these bath-towels. I never in my life set eyes on anything like them. They must have cost--I don't know what they cost--I didn't know there were such bath-towels made!”

”I don't want to wrap myself in a blanket,” a.s.serted her husband. ”I want to know I've got a towel in my hand, that I can whisk round me and slap myself with. Look here, let's get to bed. We could sit up all night examining round into our accommodations. For my part, Eleanor's style of living suits me a good deal better than this kind of elegance. Her house is fine and comfortable, but no foolishness. There's one thing I do like, though. This carpet feels mighty good to your bare feet, I'll make sure!”

He presently made sure, walking back and forth barefooted across the soft floor, chuckling like a boy, and making his toes sink into the heavy pile of the great rug. He surveyed his small wife, in her dressing-gown, sitting before the wide mirror of an elaborate dressing-table, putting her white locks into crimping pins.

”Ruth,” said he, with sudden solemnity, ”I forgot to undress in my dressing-room. Had I better put my clothes on and go take 'em off again in there?”

He pointed across to an adjoining room, brilliant with lights and equipped with all manner of furnis.h.i.+ngs adapted to masculine uses.

His wife turned about, laughing like a girl. ”Maybe in there,” she suggested, ”you could find a chair small enough to hang your coat across the back of. I'm afraid it'll get all wrinkled, folded like that.”

Uncle Rufus explored. After a minute he came back. ”There's a queer sort of bureau-thing in there all filled with coat-and-pants hangers,” he announced. ”I'm going to put my things in it. It'll keep 'em from getting wrinkled, as you say.”

When he returned: ”There's another bed in there,” he said. ”I don't know what it's for. It's got the covers all turned back, too, just like this one. Maybe we've made a mistake. Maybe there's somebody that has that room, and he hasn't come in yet. Do you suppose I'd better shut the door between?”

”Maybe you had,” agreed his wife anxiously. ”It would be dreadful if he should come in after a while. Still--young Mr. Kendrick called it your dressing-room.”

”And my clothes are in there,” added Uncle Rufus. ”It's all right.

Probably the girl made a mistake when she fixed that bed--thought there was a child with us, maybe.”

”You might just shut the door,” Aunt Ruth suggested. ”Then if anybody did come in--”

Uncle Rufus shook his head. ”It's meant for us,” he a.s.serted with conviction as he climbed into bed. ”He said 'dressing-room' and pointed.

The girl's made a mistake, that's all. It's a good place for my clothes, and I'm going to leave 'em there. Will you put out the lights?”

Aunt Ruth looked around the wall. ”I can never get used to electric lights at Eleanor's,” said she. ”And I don't see the place here, at all.”

She searched for the switches some time in vain, but at length discovered them and succeeded in extinguis.h.i.+ng the lights of the room the pair were in. But the lights of the adjoining rooms still burned with brilliancy.

”Oh, dear!” she sighed softly. Then she appealed to her husband.

Uncle Rufus, who had nearly fallen asleep while his wife had been searching, spoke without opening his eyes. ”Shut all the doors and leave 'em going,” he advised,

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