“If she doesn’t like the country all the year around I think she’d better not come,” she said.
“It is lovely,” repeated Cassy; “the trees are all purple ’way off there, and some of them are dark red near by, and the grass looks all sort of golden, and the sky is so blue, and off that way it is smoky purple. I like it.”
“Now that we’re almost there I’m going to tell you that this is the place we talked about, don’t you remember?” said Eleanor.
“Oh, is it? I am so glad. I wonder where the greenhouses will be.”
“The greenhouses? What greenhouses?” Eleanor looked astonished.
“Oh, I forgot, you don’t know.”
Rock heard her, and speaking over his shoulder said: “The greenhouses will have to be built, Cassy. There is room enough for them, as you’ll see. Look right ahead through those trees and you will see the cottage.”
“Come,” cried Eleanor, catching Cassy by the hand, “let’s get there first.” They ran ahead through the crisp brown leaves and stood panting on the porch, that porch of which they had talked, and to which still clung the morning-glory vines now withered and dry, but showing rustling seed pods.
Rock produced the key of the house and they all went in. Mrs. Law looked around critically. A hall ran through the middle of the house, and on each side were two rooms. Above stairs there were four comfortable bedrooms and a small one over the hall; an unfinished garret gave plenty of storeroom.
Rock watched Mrs. Law’s face. This place was his special discovery, and he was very anxious that it should be appreciated. He showed off the various good points with the air of one who has a personal interest. The view from the windows, the advantage of a porch both front and back, the dry cellar, the closets in each room; all these things were pointed out and Mrs. Law declared that, so far as she was concerned, the house would be all that one could wish when certain repairs had been made.