"What are you going to call the place, Mr. Renshaw?" Mrs. Mitford asked. "That is always an important point."
"I have not thought about it," Mr. Renshaw replied. "What do you think?"
"Oh, there are lots of suitable names," she replied, looking round. "We might call it Riverside or The Park or The Glade."
"I think The Glade would be very pretty," Marion said; "Riverside would suit so many places."
"I like The Glade too," Mrs. Renshaw said. "Have you thought of anything, Wilfrid?"
"No, mother, I have never given it a thought. I think The Glade will do nicely." And so it was settled, and success to The Glade was thereupon formally drunk in cups of tea.
A month later the Renshaws took possession of their new abode. It looked very neat with its verandah in front of the central portion, and the creepers which Wilfrid had planted against the walls on the day after their visit, promised speedily to cover the logs of which the house was built. Inside the flooring had been planed, stained a deep brown and varnished, while the match-boarding which covered the walls was stained a light colour and also varnished. The furniture, which had arrived the day before from Hawke's Bay was somewhat scanty, but Wilfrid and Marion, who had come over for the purpose, had made the most of it. A square of carpet and some rugs gave a cosy appearance to the floor, white curtains hung before the windows and a few favourite pictures and engravings, which they had brought with them from home, broke the bareness of the walls. Altogether it was a very pretty and snug little abode of which Mr. and Mrs. Renshaw took possession.