“I did not mean at once,” he returned.  “Any time will do.  Would this afternoon be inconvenient?”

“Not at all,” said Carrie.

Suddenly she remembered Lola, who was out at the time.

“I have a room-mate,” she added, “who will have to go wherever I do.  I forgot about that.”

“Oh, very well,” said Mr. Withers, blandly.  “It is for you to say whom you want with you.  As I say, all that can be arranged to suit yourself.”

He bowed and backed toward the door.

“At four, then, we may expect you?”

“Yes,” said Carrie.

“I will be there to show you,” and so Mr. Withers withdrew.

After rehearsal Carrie informed Lola.  “Did they really?” exclaimed the latter, thinking of the Wellington as a group of managers.  “Isn’t that fine?  Oh, jolly!  It’s so swell.  That’s where we dined that night we went with those two Cushing boys.  Don’t you know?”

“I remember,” said Carrie.

“Oh, it’s as fine as it can be.”

“We’d better be going up there,” observed Carrie later in the afternoon.

The rooms which Mr. Withers displayed to Carrie and Lola were three and bath—­a suite on the parlor floor.  They were done in chocolate and dark red, with rugs and hangings to match.  Three windows looked down into busy Broadway on the east, three into a side street which crossed there.  There were two lovely bedrooms, set with brass and white enamel beds, white ribbon-trimmed chairs and chiffoniers to match.  In the third room, or parlor, was a piano, a heavy piano lamp, with a shade of gorgeous pattern, a library table, several huge easy rockers, some dado book shelves, and a gilt curio case, filled with oddities.  Pictures were upon the walls, soft Turkish pillows upon the divan footstools of brown plush upon the floor.  Such accommodations would ordinarily cost a hundred dollars a week.

“Oh, lovely!” exclaimed Lola, walking about.

“It is comfortable,” said Carrie, who was lifting a lace curtain and looking down into crowded Broadway.

The bath was a handsome affair, done in white enamel, with a large, blue-bordered stone tub and nickel trimmings.  It was bright and commodious, with a beveled mirror set in the wall at one end and incandescent lights arranged in three places.

“Do you find these satisfactory?” observed Mr. Withers.

“Oh, very,” answered Carrie.

“Well, then, any time you find it convenient to move in, they are ready.  The boy will bring you the keys at the door.”

Carrie noted the elegantly carpeted and decorated hall, the marbled lobby, and showy waiting-room.  It was such a place as she had often dreamed of occupying.

“I guess we’d better move right away, don’t you think so?” she observed to Lola, thinking of the commonplace chamber in Seventeenth Street.

“Oh, by all means,” said the latter.