watching the throng debouch into the street. All at once the
sister exclaimed, "There he is!" and the other began to call, "Oscar,
Oscar!" waving her hand to one of the workmen on the other side of the
street. It was her husband, the burnisher, and he came across the
street, crowding his lunch basket into the pocket of his coat. He was a
thin little man with a timid air, his face white and fat and covered
with a sparse unshaven stubble of a pale straw colour. An odour as of a
harness shop hung about him. Vandover gathered up his broom and pail and
soap preparing to go home.

"Well, Oscar, I've taken the house!" said his wife to the burnisher as
he came up the steps. "But I couldn't get him to say that he'd let me
have it for fifteen, water _included_. The landlord himself, Mr. Geary,
was here to-day and I made the dicker with him. He's had a man here all
day cleaning up." She explained the bargain, the burnisher approving of
everything, nodding his head continually. His wife showed him about the
house, her sister and the little boy following in silence. "He's a good
landlord, I guess," continued the young woman; "anybody in the row will
tell you that, and he means to keep his houses in good repair. Now you
see, here's the kitchen. You see how big it is. Here's our laundry tubs,
our iron sink, our boiler, and everything we want. It's all as clean as
a whistle; and get on to this big cubby under the sink where I can stow
away things." She opened its door to show her husband, but all at once
straightened up, exclaiming, "Well, dear me _suz_--did you _ever_ see
anything like that?" The cubby under the sink was abominably dirty.
Vandover had altogether forgotten it.

The little burnisher himself bent down and peered in.

"Oh, that'll never do!" he cried. "Has that man gone home yet? He
mustn't; he's got to clean this out first!" He had a weak, faint voice,
small and timid like his figure. He hurried out to the front door and
called Vandover back just as he was going down the steps. The two went
back into the kitchen and stood in front of the sink. "Look under
there!" piped the burnisher. "You can't leave that, that way."

"You know," protested his wife, "that this all was to be done to our
satisfaction. Mr. Geary said so. That's the only way I came to take the
house."

"It's about six o'clock, though," observed her fat sister, who smelt of
cooked cabbage. "Perhaps he'd want to go home to his dinner." But at
this both th