Pay as you go, is my motto."
Mrs. Harmon sat talking in the little den beside the door which she
called the office, when she returned from that absence which she had
asked him to say would not be more than fifteen minutes at the
outside. It had been something more than two hours, and it had ended
almost clandestinely; but knowledge of her return had somehow spread
through the house, and several ladies came in while she was talking,
to ask when their window-shades were to be put up, or to say that
they knew their gas-fixtures must be out of order; or that there
were mice in their closets, for they had heard them gnawing; or that
they were sure their set-bowls smelt, and that the traps were not
working. Mrs. Harmon was prompt in every exigency. She showed the
greatest surprise that those shades had not gone up yet; she said
she was going to send round for the gasfitter to look at the
fixtures all over the house; and that she would get some potash to
pour down the bowls, for she knew the drainage was perfect--it was
just the pipes down _to_ the traps that smelt; she advised a
cat for the mice, and said she would get one. She used the greatest
sympathy with the ladies, recognising a real sufferer in each, and
not attempting to deny anything. From the dining-room came at times
the sound of voices, which blended in a discord loud above the
clatter of crockery, but Mrs.
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