Following a common fashion of the times, the veteran Carter Friestone, in building his store and home, made the second story the living room of the family. It could be reached by the stairs at the back of the regular entrance, being through a narrow hall where visitors rang a bell when they called.
The upper front apartment served for parlor and sitting room, and was neatly furnished, one of the principal articles being a piano. This was a birthday present to Nora, who was gifted with a naturally sweet voice and received instruction from the schoolmistress of Beartown. At the rear was the kitchen and dining room, with two bedrooms between that and the parlor, facing each other across the hall.
Nora answered the tinkle of the bell, and Alvin and Chester were introduced to her under the light of the hanging lamp overhead. The little party found the mother awaiting them at the head of the stairs.
“Supper will be ready in a few minutes,” she said. “Nora will entertain you in the parlor until I call you.”
The girl escorted them to the front room, where all sat down and chatted with the cheery good nature proper in such a party of young folks. Mike was at his best, and kept all laughing by his drollery. Nora’s merriment filled the room with music. Michael had given his name soon after his entrance into the store, but insisted that the way to pronounce it was “Mike,” not “Michael.”
“I never knew such a funny person,” said Nora, after one of his quaint remarks. “Mother and I took to him from the first.”
“I find it’s a common wakeness whereiver I go,” said Mike gravely.
“We find him fairly good company,” said Alvin. “He seems to have been born that way and we can hardly blame him.”
“He tries our patience very much,” added Chester, “but we have learned to bear the affliction.”
“I wish you all lived in Beartown,” said Nora impulsively, “and that Mike would call to see us every day.”