"That's just what they won't be, particularly," said Barbara, "seeing we're going 'west over.'"
"Well, then, the afternoons will be long. It is all the same," said Ruth. That was the best she could do.
"Mother," said Rosamond, "I've been thinking. Get grandfather to have some of the floors stained. I think rugs, and English druggets, put down with brass-headed nails, in the middle, are delightful. Especially for a country house."
"It seems, then, we are going?"
Nobody had even raised a question of that.
Nobody raised a question when Mr. Holabird came in. He himself raised none. He sat and listened to all the propositions and corollaries, quite as one does go through the form of demonstration of a geometrical fact patent at first glance.
"We can have a cow," mother repeated.
"Or a dog, at any rate," put in Stephen, who found it hard to get a hearing.
"You can have a garden, father," said Barbara. "It's to be near to the parcel of ground that Rufus gave to his son Stephen."
"I don't like to have you quote Scripture so," said father, gravely.