no doubt about the desirableness of the city house which David Townsend
had purchased and the fact that he had secured it for an absurdly low
price. The whole family were at first suspicious. It was ascertained
that the house had cost a round sum only a few years ago; it was in
perfect repair; nothing whatever was amiss with plumbing, furnace,
anything. There was not even a soap factory within smelling distance,
as Mrs. Townsend had vaguely surmised. She was sure that she had heard
of houses being undesirable for such reasons, but there was no soap
factory. They all sniffed and peeked; when the first rainfall came
they looked at the ceiling, confidently expecting to see dark spots
where the leaks had commenced, but there were none. They were forced
to confess that their suspicions were allayed, that the house was
perfect, even overshadowed with the mystery of a lower price than it
was worth. That, however, was an additional perfection in the opinion
of the Townsends, who had their share of New England thrift. They had
lived just one month in their new house, and were happy, although at
times somewhat lonely from missing the society of Townsend Centre, when
the trouble began. The Townsends, although they lived in a fine house
in a genteel, almost fashionable, part of the city, were true to their
antecedents and kept, as they had been accustomed, only one maid. She
was the daughter of a farmer on the outskirts of their native village,
was middle-aged, and had lived with them for the last ten years. One
pleasant Monday morning she rose early and did the family washing
before breakfast, which had been prepared by Mrs. Townsend and
Adrianna, as was their habit on washing-days. The family were seated
at the breakfast table in their basement dining-room, and this maid,
whose name was Cordelia, was hanging out the clothes in the vacant lot.
This vacant lot seemed a valuable one, being on a corner. It was
rather singular that it had not been built upon. The Townsends had
wondered at it and agreed that they would have preferred their own
house to be there. They had, however, utilized it as far as possible
with their innocent, rural disregard of property rights in unoccupied
land.

"We might just as well hang out our washing in that vacant lot," Mrs.
Townsend had told Cordelia the first Monday of their stay in the house.
"Our little yard ain't half big enough for all our clothes, and it is
sunnier there, too."

So