"That's a girl like a—whatever there is that means the noblest sort of woman, and I'm not sure it is a queen!" he said to Rodney, as he seated himself in the chaise, and took the reins from his son's hands.
Mr. Sherrett was apt to say to Rodney, "You may drive me to this or that place," but he was very apt, also, to do the driving himself, after all; especially if he was somewhat preoccupied, and forgot, as he did now.
The way Mr. Howland Sherrett inquired about the red-roofed house, was this:
He went down to Mr. John Horner's store, in Opal Street, and asked him what was the rent of it.
"Six hundred and fifty dollars."
"Rather high, isn't it, for the situation?"
"Not for the situation of the land, I guess," said Mr. Horner. "I'm paying annexation taxes."
"What will you sell the property for as it stands?"
"Eighty-five hundred dollars."
"I'll give you eight thousand, Mr. Horner, in cash, upon condition that you will not mention its having changed hands. I have some friends whom I wish should live there," he added, lest some deep speculating move should be surmised.