“We’ll call again.”
“Oh,” said the woman, “if you decide to take this room I’ll make a
reduction, and I don’t mind gentlemen callers if you leave the door
open.”
I felt a sort of disgust come over me and, telling her I did not want
the room, I made for the door, hurrying Lu along.
“Oh, I see,” she shouted after us, “you want to _shut_ the door!”
After looking about, we found a back parlor in a French-Canadian house
on University Street. The landlady was very polite, and I paid her eight
dollars in advance.
The following day I moved all my things into the “studio,” as it now, in
fact, began to look like, what with all my paintings about and some of
papa’s, an easel, palette and painting materials. I covered up the ugly
couch with some draperies the Count sent over for me. Poor old fellow,
he had sent word to me the very next day to come back, saying he missed
his little pupil very much, but at Reggie’s advice I wrote him that I
had taken a studio of my own. He then sent me a lot of draperies and
other things, and wrote that he would come to see me very soon.
I had a sign painted on black japanned tin, with the following
inscription: