She looked up into the old man’s face, the sunlight streaming down into hers, and she clasped her hands in her eagerness, and it was hard to see how he could have had the heart to refuse her. But he did.
“The name is chosen already,” he said with a kind of chuckle. And Jim only grinned at the sight of Peggy’s helplessly falling hands, and her evident disappointment.
“We—ell,” she sighed, “so many things to stand to-day—what is it? I know it isn’t as nice as I had in mind, is it, Jim?”
“Nicer,” said that traitor Jim.
“Well, what, then?”
“Parsons Court,” said the old man, smiling down on her curiously, and then laughing toward his grandson who laughed back appreciatively.
“Parsons—?” her breath came in a little astonished gasp.
“That’s it,” Mr. Huntington repeated, “and do you know why?”
But Peggy must have been a daring young guesser indeed had she been able to guess correctly why, as the old man’s next remark showed.
“It’s yours!” he told her, pressing a legal looking paper into her hand, “the whole street was built and planned and named for you, and you shall have the rent of these little houses, or you can sell them when you wish. I thought if you just rented them, while you are in college, they’d bring you in a larger income than most of the girls know how to spend.”