VIGinny Dolan plopped down on one of the beds, testing it. “This is for me! In Taber, my room’s pink. But I like blue. I’ve got a hot-plate with me. I can put it right over there. Mother says——”
The doorbell rang, so there was one crumb of Mrs. Dolan’s practical wisdom I didn’t have to sweep up. The Shaw lowboy that Ginny was already mentally converting into her kitchen privileges was only in the guest room to save it from wear and tear. The occupational hazards of running a rooming house were becoming clearer by the minute.
Archie Seaton came in. “Look, Mrs. L.,” he said. “Can’t you get Marge to lay off the——”
I shook my head quickly, and just in time. Not only did the bizarre situation of having an employee of Hamilton Vair’s there in the house occur to me, as he started to say the Br
