“O Allison, stop! Stop! There it is, just there on the right. And it’s for sale, too! Oh, let’s get right out and get the name of the agent, so we won’t lose it again.”
Allison stopped the car suddenly, and turned to look. There in the full blaze of an electric arc-light, nestled among shrubbery and tall trees, with a smooth terrace in front, was a beautiful little cottage of white stone, with a pink roof, and windows everywhere.
“Why, that’s not the college, Les; what’s the matter with you?” said Allison, putting his hand on the starter again. “Better wake up. Don’t you know a college when you don’t see one?”
“College nothing!” said his sister. “That’s our house. That’s our home, Allison. The very house I’ve dreamed of. It looks a little like the houses in California, and it is the very thing. Now, there’s no use; you’ve got to get out and get that agent’s name, or I’ll jump out myself, and get lost, and walk the rest of the way!”
“It is lovely!” said Julia Cloud, leaning over to look. “But it looks expensive, and you wouldn’t want to buy a house, you know, dear; for you might not stay.”
“Oh, yes, we would if we liked it. And, besides, houses can be sold again when you get done with them, though I’d never want to sell that! It’s a perfect little duck. Allison, will you get out or shall I?”
“Oh, I’m game,” said Allison, getting out and jumping the hedge into the pretty yard.
He took out his pencil, and wrote down the address in his note-book, stepped up the terrace and glanced about, then went close to the street sign, and found out what corner it was near.
“It is a pippin, sure thing,” he said as he sprang into the car again; “but, Leslie, for the love of Mike, don’t find any more houses to-night! I’m hungry as a bear. That prayer meeting was one too many for me; I’m going to make for the nearest restaurant; and then, if you want to go house-hunting after that, all right; but I’m going to find the eats first.”