The landlady invariably wore a corset-cover of yellow flannel, the
Baroness a wrapper mottled with stains from cosmetics and the Biscayan
lady a red waist through whose opening was regularly presented, for
the admiration of those who happened along the corridor, a huge white
udder streaked with coarse blue veins.
After this matutinal ceremony, and not infrequently during the same,
complaints, disputes, gossip and strife would arise, providing
tid-bits for the remaining hours.
On the day following the scrape between the landlady and Irene, when
the latter returned to her room after having fulfilled her mission, a
secret conclave was held by those who remained.
"Don't you know? Didn't you hear anything last night?" asked the
Biscayan.
"No," replied the landlady and the Baroness. "What happened?"
"Irene smuggled a man into the house last night."
"She did?"
"I heard her talking to him myself."
"And he must have opened the street door! The dog!" muttered the
landlady.
"No; the man came from this tenement."
"One of the students from upstairs," offered the Baroness.
"I'll tell a thing or two to the rascally fellow," replied Dona
Casiana.
"No. Take your time," answered the Biscayan. "We're going to give her
and her gallant a fright. If he comes tonight, while they're talking,
we'll tell the watchman to knock at the house door, and at the same
time we'll all come out of our rooms with lights, as if we were going
to the dining-room, and catch them.
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