"Cook a dinner for thirty people, madam." "And there's room for them to eat it--in the road," said Staines.
The agent reminded him there were larger places to be had, by a very simple process, viz., paying for them.
Staines thought of the large, comfortable house in Harewood Square.

"One hundred and thirty pounds a year for this poky little hole ?" he groaned.
"Why, it is nothing at all for a Bijou." "But it is too much for a bandbox." Rosa laid her hand on his arm, with an imploring glance.
"Well," said he, "I'll submit to the rent, but I really cannot give the premium, it is too ridiculous.

He ought to bribe me to rent it, not I him." "Can't be done without, sir." "Well, I'll give a hundred pounds and no more." "Impossible, sir." "Then good morning.

Now, dearest, just come and see the house at Harewood Square,--eighty-five pounds and no premium." "Will you oblige me with your address, doctor ?" said the agent.
"Dr.Staines, Morley's Hotel." And so they left Mayfair.
Rosa sighed and said, "Oh, the nice little place; and we have lost it for two hundred pounds." "Two hundred pounds is a great deal for us to throw away." "Being near the Coles would soon have made that up to you: and such a cosey little nest." "Well the house will not run away." "But somebody is sure to snap it up.

It is a Bijou." She was disappointed, and half inclined to pout.