“Here!” Aunt Hannah looked relieved, but unconvinced.
“Yes. Don't you like it here?”
“Like it! Why, I love it, dear. You know I do. But you don't need this house now, Billy.”
“Oh, yes, I do,” retorted Billy, airily. “I'm going to keep it up, and I want you here.
“Fiddlededee, Billy! As if I'd let you keep up this house just for me,” scorned Aunt Hannah.
“'Tisn't just for you. It's for—for lots of folks.”
“My grief and conscience, Billy! What are you talking about?”
Billy laughed, and settled herself more comfortably on the hassock at Aunt Hannah's feet.
“Well, I'll tell you. Just now I want it for Tommy Dunn, and the Greggorys if I can get them, and maybe one or two others. There'll always be somebody. You see, I had thought I'd have them at the Strata.”
“Tommy Dunn—at the Strata!”