See
you've even filled the wash-pitcher and tucked two starched towels
through the handle. Haven't got any tin towels, have you? I rather
like this new soap, too! So solid and durable, you know; warranted not
to raise a lather. Might as well wash one's hands with a door-knob!"
And as John's voice grumbled away into the sullen silence again, the
determined voice without responded: "Oh, you can growl away to your
heart's content, Mr. McKinney, but I want you to distinctly understand
that I'm not going to humor you in any of your old bachelor,
sluggardly, slovenly ways, and whims and notions. And I want you to
understand, too, that I'm not hired help in this house, nor a
chambermaid, nor anything of the kind. I'm the landlady here; and I'll
give you just ten minutes more to get down to your breakfast, or
you'll not get any--that's all!" And as the reversed cuff John was in
the act of buttoning slid from his wrist and rolled under the dresser,
he heard a stiff rustling of starched muslin flouncing past the door,
and the quick italicized patter of determined gaiters down the hall.
"Look here," said John to the bright-faced boy in the hotel office, a
half hour later. "It seems the house here's been changing hands
again.
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