"It certainly does, Mrs. Blaisdell."

'And you had 'em take the trunks in there, too. That's good," she
nodded, crossing to the door of the small dressing-room beyond. "I
thought you would. Well, I hope you'll be real happy with us, Mr.
Smith, and I guess you will. And you needn't be a mite afraid of
hurting anything. I've covered everything with mats and tidies and
spreads."

"Yes, I see." A keen listener would have noticed an odd something in
Mr. Smith's voice; but Mrs. Blaisdell apparently noticed nothing.

"Yes, I always do--to save wearing and soiling, you know. Of course,
if we had money to buy new all the time, it would be different. But we
haven't. And that's what I tell Mellicent when she complains of so
many things to dust and brush. Now make yourself right at home, Mr.
Smith. Dinner's at twelve o'clock, and supper is at six--except in the
winter. We have it earlier then, so's we can go to bed earlier. Saves
gas, you know. But it's at six now. I do like the long days, don't
you? Well, I'll be off now, and let you unpack. As I said before, make
yourself perfectly at home, perfectly at home."

Left alone, Mr. Smith drew a long breath and looked about him. It was
a pleasant room, in spite of its cluttered appearance. There was an
old-fashioned desk for his papers, and the chairs looked roomy and
comfortable. The little dressing-room carried many conveniences, and
the windows of both rooms looked out upon the green of the common.

"Oh, well, I don't know. This might be lots worse--in spite of the
tidies!" chuckled Mr. John Smith, as he singled out the keys of his