"Where is it?" inquired Beatrice.
"In the lower part of the town," answered Mr. Lee. "It is not in an aristocratic neighbourhood, but it seems as though it might be quite comfortable, after a few repairs are made, and the rent is ridiculously low. The house in Number 12 Cherry Street."
"Cherry Street!" cried Beatrice, involuntarily clapping her palms over her eyes. "Oh, papa, how can you. We can't live in Cherry Street."
"Oh, yes we can," said Miss Billy promptly.
"Yes we can," chimed in Theodore.
"What kind of a house is it?" asked Miss Billy, in a practical and business-like tone.
Mr. Lee looked puzzled. "Well, I know it's small," he said, "and I have an indistinct remembrance of brown paint. Ask your mother; I fear I haven't much memory for details. Perhaps if I had I should have watched my investment a little closer," he added sadly.
"The house is small, and is brown too—in spots," said Mrs. Lee. "It has four rooms downstairs and four bedrooms above. There is no water or gas in the house, which is of course a great inconvenience; and the place is in shabby condition; but the landlord has promised to make the necessary repairs and to paint the house for us."
"He probably realises what it will mean to Cherry Street in a social way, to have us for tenants," said Beatrice.
"You bet he does," said Theodore. "In his mind's eye he can probably see Cherry Street ablaze with light and aglow with colour. He can see number twelve filled with diamond tiaras and cut glass pianos and freezers full of ice cream, to signify that a function is on. He can see the Caseys and the Raffertys and the Rosenbaums riding by in their coupés and splendour to attend the house warming given by the minister. Thus will 'sassiety' be brought into Cherry Street by the new tenants."