“Edith, O Edith!” he cried excitedly. “My salary has been raised to a million dollars a year! Now we can move into a new house!”
“How perfectly lovely!” cried Mrs. Delight. “Can’t we buy one directly?”
“We certainly can, my dear,” replied Mr. Delight. “We will go down right away and see Mr. Betts, the carpenter, and see what houses he has on hand for sale.”
Betsey slipped off the excited little gentleman’s business coat and put on his black one with the long tails, thrust his cane under his arm, and propped him up against the chair-back to wait for Mrs. Delight, who was much slower in dressing. Betsey selected a white silk blouse and tailored skirt for Mrs. Delight, and opened her gay Japanese parasol. Then, while the happy dolls were taking the trolley ride to Mr. Betts’ carpenter-shop—(really standing stiffly all the time against the chair-back)—Betsey hustled the untidy shop into order. Then she drew the table over to the window, settled her fat tube of paste, her bottle of glue, her scissors and scraps of satin on it, and sat down before it, very importantly, as Mr. Betts, the carpenter. And what a smiling carpenter she was!
“Good day, Mr. Betts,” said Mr. Delight (quite out of breath with the stairs), “we want to buy a new house.”
“What kind of a house?” asked Mr. Betts thoughtfully, setting his little customers up against a pile of books.
“A moderately large house, Mr. Betts,” replied Mr. Delight, “that is well-built,—for myself, my wife, and a colored cook.”
“Aha!” exclaimed Mr. Betts. “I have the very house!”
“Shall we take a look at it, my dear?” said Mr. Delight, offering his arm to his wife. And presently they stood in Mr. Betts’ brand new house, that was painted snow-white inside and pale green outside, that was well-built and just right for three people.
“O what a lovely house!” exclaimed Mrs. Delight.