University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

One whole forenoon has been spent in perambulating
the streets, and visiting “fashionable
boarding-houses,” the result of which you
are fully apprised of thus far. Mrs. Barclay
and Fanny have returned home, well tired with
their unsuccessful efforts. Mr. Barclay came
home rather later than usual to dinner, and jocosely
inquired, “What success in your labors,
ladies, to-day? You look dreadfully jaded. I
think no place offers for me to bargain about.”

I do not know that I have any where spoken
of one trait in Mrs. Barclay's character; she
had indomitable perseverance. Rather than
surrender a plan she had fully determined to
execute, she would almost submit to martyrdom.
Vexed and chagrined as she already
felt with her morning's discomfitures, both her
cousin and herself resolved that no third person
should know it. Under plea, however, of

giving the nursery maid an opportunity to go
out, she left the dining-room to Fanny and Mr.
Barclay, while she attended “little Fanny,”
the elder's namesake. A tête-à-tête between
Mr. Barclay and Fanny now ensued, and let
us hear how adroitly Miss Jones can accommodate
herself to Mr. Barclay's views.

“I don't know as you agree with me,” remarked
Mr. Barclay, “but I have been, and
am still, exceedingly adverse to the change we
are about making; but, as we have proceeded
too far to retrace our steps, I intend to bear
with fortitude whatever falls to my lot. But
I doubt not your cousin will, in a month's time,
wish herself back again to her own domicil,
even if she had double the care she now complains
about.”

“Nor I either,” said the double-tongued
Fanny. “I do so wonder,” she continued,
“she can persist in such a scheme! Mercy on
us, Mr. Barclay! I only wish you could have
seen the accommodations offered us this morning.
The room which Polly occupies is as

far superior to any lodging-room we have seen
as you can imagine. And then, the terms are
so exorbitant; why, instead of economizing
by boarding, it does seem to me it costs double.
I am sure I had no idea of the sums charged
for such indifferent rooms: my only wonder
will be hereafter, why, instead of failing, as so
many boarding-house keepers do, they do not
grow rich and retire with handsome fortunes.”

“But,” said Mr. Barclay, “you do not realize
how great are the expenses of this class of
people. They frequently begin in debt, have
large and expensive families to educate, and
then so many wasteful servants and so many
appetites to cater for, that, adding the above
enumeration to a heavy rent in an eligible part
of the city, I rather wonder as many get along
as do.”

“But their names are legion,” said Fanny;
and forthwith she drew out her memoranda,
upon which were inscribed twelve names.
With three of these our readers have already
formed a slight acquaintance.

Mr. Barclay, although somewhat versed in
Fanny's manœuvres, did not quite understand
her. He did not suppose that two sets of opinions
directly opposed to each other were in her
expressions, for he did not know all she had
said to Mrs. Barclay.

The afternoon of this day was cheerless
enough. Mrs. Barclay had a sick headache,
Fanny felt dissatisfied with her labors, “little
Fan” was peevish, Sally had gone out, and Polly
was all in confusion in the kitchen.

“I hope you are not going to give up at the
very commencement of the game, cousin,”
said Fanny. “I beg of you, don't let your husband
think you are repentant before you begin;
keep up good courage; that alone will
drive away the headache, and, if the sun shines
to-morrow, we will try again our fortunes. I
suspect we have made the worst selection on
my list to-day. At any rate, I don't feel at all
discouraged.”

The next day came with its sunshine, and
seemed to inspire our friends with renewed

zeal. They took a turn in another part of the
city. But, patient reader, did you ever literally
hunt for a boarding-place? If you are
a bachelor, it may be you found one tolerably
pleasant; if a lone woman, perhaps some vacant
room looked inviting; if a school miss
in your teens, some parlor well warmed, with
its accommodations all at your service, might
strike your fancy as a pleasant home; if a
newly-married pair, who are desirous of avoiding
“too many expenses,” you may find a
boarding-house quite congenial to your new
existence; but can you point me to a family,
surrounded with every convenience, whose circumstances
warrant not only comforts, but luxuries;
whose children have ever felt free to
roam in every apartment; whose accommodations
conveniences, and privileges combine
every thing we denominate a “good home,”
and did you ever know such a family to find
what they called “a pleasant boarding-house?”
Was there not something wrong in the location,
something disagreeable in the inmates, something,
in one word, at variance with their happiness?

And do you inquire how our friends succeeded
to-day? Little better than yesterday.
They found, out of six upon Miss Fanny's catalogue,
but two tolerably decent rooms, and
these were at such a distance from Mr. Barclay's
business as to make them quite out of
the question. Fanny gave up her memorandum
and had recourse to the newspaper; there,
in glaring letters, were advertised, “Good board
for a man and his wife, without children, may
be obtained in H— Avenue.” And, in another
column, “Board, with furnished apartments,
for a small family, may be found in a quiet,
yet central part of the city. Address box 380,
post-office.”

To this address a note was soon dispatched;
and having, in their conceptions, found a pleasant
home at last, after many fruitless efforts,
Mrs. Barclay and Fanny are at house 39 —
street, to ascertain “particulars.” The landlord
himself answered their inquiries at the

door. “Yes, he had rooms, and good ones
too. Sit down a minute, and he would show
them.” It so happened they were ushered into
the dining-room, where was a long table, upon
which was a soiled cloth, some cheap dishes,
and a few dingy doilies at about one half the
plates. “Don't let us wait,” said Mrs. Barclay,
“for the man to return;” but Fanny had
some curiosity which she was anxious to gratify.
Soon the landlord, in slippers, made signals
to them to follow him. Sundry pitchers
stood at the head of the stairs, a female was
sweeping them down, regardless of dust or dirt,
and brooms and brushes hedged up the way!
but, clearing somewhat dexterously the way
at the head of the second flight of stairs, he
threw open two doors, the rooms which were
“just vacated.” They had been occupied by
three representatives to our general court; but
the landlord remarked, as they preferred a
tavern, “he was suited, if they were.”

“And what are your terms, sir?” said Fanny.

“Why, I want to get ten dollars; but, as it

is late in the season, I would let these two
rooms for eight to you, ladies.”

Some slight demurring took place here
about keeping a servant, for Fanny said “she
was determined the old fellow should think
she was somebody;” and much pleased with
their adventure, our friends again found themselves
at home.

“I declare,” said Hepsy Barclay, “if we had
not advertised our furniture, I would keep
house till spring.”

“Pshaw! nonsense!” said Fanny; “if you
can do no better, you can go to some hotel till
you do find a place.”

It would be as wearying in detail as it was
in actual suffering to enumerate the variety
of houses our friends visited to procure board.
Mean while, the day for the auction approached,
and still no place was secured.