“Well, how are you getting on?” asked Geary, as he came into the kitchen, drawing on his gloves, about ready to go home.

“Oh, I’m getting along,” replied Vandover, rising up to his knees.

“You want to hurry up,” answered Geary.  “You must be done with this house by this evening.  You see, I want to advertise it in to-morrow’s papers.”

“All right; I’ll have it done.”

“Pretty dirty, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, pretty dirty.”

“You may have to work here a little later than usual this afternoon, but be sure you have everything cleaned up before you leave,” Geary said.

“All right,” answered Vandover, bending to his work again.

Just as Geary was leaving he had the admirable good fortune to meet on the steps of the cottage a little group who were house-hunting; two young women and a little boy.  The mother of the little boy, so she explained to him, was married to one of the burnishers in the factory; the other woman was her sister.

Geary showed them about the little house, very eager to secure them as tenants then and there.  He began to sing its praises, its nearness to the factory, its excellent plumbing, its bathroom and its one stationary washstand; its little garden and its location on the sunny side of the street.  “I’m a good landlord,” he said to them, as he ushered them into the kitchen.  “Any one in the row will tell you that.  I make it a point to keep my houses in good repair and to keep them clean.  You see, I have a man here now cleaning out.”  Vandover glanced up at the women an instant.  The two of them and the little boy looked down at him on all fours upon the floor.  Then he went on with his work.

“This is the kitchen, you see,” pursued Geary.  “Notice how large it is; you see, here are your laundry tubs, your iron sink, your boiler, everything you need.  Of course, it’s a little grimy now, but by the time the man gets through, it will be as clean as your face.  Now come downstairs here and I’ll show the basement.”

In a moment their voices sounded through the floor of the kitchen, an indistinct, continuous murmur.  Then the party returned and passed by Vandover again and stood for a long time in the front room haggling.  The cottage rented for fifteen dollars.  The young woman was willing to take it at that, but with the understanding that Geary should pay the water rent.  Geary refused, unwilling even to listen to such a thing.  Every other tenant in the row paid for his own water.  The young women went away shaking their heads sadly.  Geary let them get half-way down the front steps and then called them back.  He offered a compromise, the young women should pay for the water, but half of their first month’s rent should be remitted.  The burnisher’s wife still hesitated, saying, “You know yourself this house is awfully dirty.”

“Well, you see I’m having it cleaned!”

“It’ll have to be cleaned pretty thoroughly.  I can’t stand dirt.”