“Ah, my son! We have missed you greatly. But did you have a pleasant time?”
“Mother, it’s delightful! It is. Just the plain, common-sense side of it is too good to be true. It is all so much better than we any of us dreamed that I hardly know how to begin.”
“I know, Roland!” interposed Robert. “Begin as we like stories to do: ‘Once upon a time.’”
“All right, little chap. ‘Once upon a time’ there was an old gentleman that had a great deal of money, much more than he needed himself, and he liked to do good with it. He was a peculiar old gentleman, too. He didn’t believe in the actual giving away of this money, as we sometimes give to the street beggars; but he would help those who wanted to help themselves. He said that was the Lord’s own way, and he certainly could not improve upon it. So all his life long he has been putting tumble-down people on their feet, and educating ignorant ones, and building little homes for homeless folks, who generally plucked up courage enough to earn the cost of the homes themselves at last. All which the splendid old fellow didn’t tell me himself; but I found out by asking more questions of everybody I met than even Bob could ask in the same length of time.”
“You couldn’t!” said Robert, indignantly.
“I did, small sir. I’ll prove it by anybody who saw me while I was in New Windsor town! Well, sure enough, when I got to the station there was a cosey carriage waiting for me, and in it, not just the servant I had expected to see, but Mr. Brook and the sweetest-faced old lady I ever saw.”
“Roland! Did—you go and take that poetry-side out of my drawer before you started?” asked Bonny, pathetically.
“No, miss. This is plain, unvarnished fact. Miss Brook is like her brother, only—more so! She looks like him, with a little smaller features and a bonnet on. She wears white curls each side her face, and her bonnet is big enough to cover her head, and she had on a soft-colored old shawl; India, I think she called it. She is very decided and quick, but not harsh. It is only that her mind seems to go as fast as Bonny’s does, though more wisely.”
“Thanks. Next chapter, please,” remarked the object of comparison, slipping her arm within her brother’s.
“Well, I will skip the rest, for a minute, and hurry to the ‘plan.’ Mr. Brook has a house he would like to rent us. It stands on the land adjoining his own place, and was owned by some city people who got dissatisfied and left. He bought it partly as an investment, and partly to prevent undesirable persons coming to live there. It is old and picturesque, but it is in good order. It has a revolutionary history,—that is, the west side has; the eastern half is more modern. It stands almost upon the river bank, though on a bluff above it, and the orchard slopes quite down to the water. The rent is two hundred dollars a year, which is one hundred less than we pay now. It seemed to me that there was more room in it than we needed, but Mr. Brook said he thought not. And Bob’s friend, Dolloway, who went through the house with us, remarked: ‘I should think you’d be glad to have room enough to swing a cat in for once!’ and I concluded that it might be pleasant. The house is partly furnished; that is, there are curtains of some sort at the windows, and matting on the floors. There are closets everywhere, and one room is just as General Somebody used it. I declare, I was ashamed to find my history so rusty, for the whole locality is historic. And— Oh, Mother, I do hope you will think favorably of it!”