CHAPTER XX
The Obdurate Landlord
TWENTY minutes later when Mr. Downing roared "COME IN" in the terrifying voice he usually reserved for agents and other unexpected or unwelcome visitors, he was plainly very much surprised to see four pale girls with shocked, reproachful eyes file in and come to an embarrassed standstill just inside the office door, which closed of its own accord and left them imprisoned with the enemy.
"Oh, good morning," said he, in a much milder tone, as he swung about in his revolving chair. "What can I do for you? Have you brought the key so soon?"
"We came," said Jean, propelled suddenly forward by a vigorous push from the rear, "to see you about Dandelion Cottage. We think you've made a mistake."
"Indeed!" said Mr. Downing, who did not at any time like to be considered mistaken. "Suppose you explain."
So sweet-voiced Jean explained all about digging the dandelions to pay the 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 to have in their precious cottage before giving it up for the winter.
Mr. Downing, personally, did not like Mr. Black. He had a poor opinion of the older man's business ability, and perhaps a somewhat exalted one of his own. He considered Mr. Black old-fashioned and far too easy-going; he felt that parish affairs were more likely to flourish in the hands of a younger, shrewder and more modern person—he had an idea that he was that person. At any rate, now that Mr. Black was out of town, Mr. Downing was glad of an opportunity to display his own superior shrewdness. He would show the vestry a thing or two, and, incidentally, increase the parish income, which as everybody knew stood greatly in need of increasing. He had no patience with slipshod methods. He was truly sorry when business matters compelled him to appear hard-hearted; but to him it appeared little short of absurd for a man of Mr. Black's years to waste on four small girls a cottage that might be bringing in a comfortable sum every month in the year.
"Now that's a very pretty little story," said Mr. Downing, when Jean had finished. "But you see, you've already had the cottage more than long enough to pay you for pulling those few weeds."
"Few!" exclaimed Mabel, in indignant protest and forgetting her promise of silence. "Few! Why, there were billions of 'em. If we'd been paid two cents a hundred for them we'd all be rich. Mr. Black promised us we could have that cottage for all summer and our rent hasn't half perspired yet."
"She means expired," explained Marjory, "but she's right for once. Mr. Black did say we could stay there all summer—it isn't quite August yet, you know."
"Hum," said Mr. Downing, "nobody said anything to me about any such arrangement and I'm keeping the books. I don't know what Mr. Black could 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 for ten or twelve dollars a month."
"But the plaster's very bad," pleaded Bettie, eagerly, "and the roof leaks in every room in the house but one, and something's the matter underneath so it's too cold for folks to live in during the winter. It was vacant for a long time before we had it."
"It looked very comfortable to me," said Mr. Downing, who had lived in the town for only a few months and neither knew nor suspected the real condition of the house. "I'm afraid your arrangement with Mr. Black doesn't hold good. Mr. Morgan and myself think it best to have the house vacated at once. You see we're in danger of losing the rent from the next house for the Milligans have threatened to move out if you don'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 this world"
"I'm not," said Mr. Downing. "I'm only reasonable and I want you to be reasonable too. You must look at this thing from a business standpoint. You see, the rent from those two houses should bring in twenty-five dollars a month, which isn't more than a sufficient return for the money invested. The taxes"
"A note for you, Mr. Downing," said a boy, who had quietly opened the office door.
"Why," said Mr. Downing, when he had read the note, "this is really quite a remarkable coincidence. This communication is from Mr. Milligan, who has found a desirable tenant for the cottage he is now in, and wishes, himself, to occupy the cottage you are going to vacate. Very clever idea on Mr. Milligan's part. This will save him five dollars a month, and is a most convenient arrangement all around. He wishes to move in at once."
"Mr. Milligan!" gasped three of the astonished girls.
"Those Milligans in our house!" cried Mabel. "Well, isn't that the worst!"
"You see," said Mr. Downing, "it is really necessary for you to move at once. I think you had better begin without further loss of time. Good morning, good morning all of you, and please believe me, I'm sorry about 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. There are 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 never more 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 a handful of loose change, scrupulously counted out three dimes and a nickel and handed them to Mabel, who, with averted eyes and chin held unnecessarily high, accepted the price of the Blossom wall-paper haughtily, and following the others, stalked from the office.