The children were now too much interested in their surroundings to ask questions. Their father explained a little about some of the streets through which they passed, and pointed out some of the buildings, though he was not yet familiar with the city and was compelled to keep to well-known thoroughfares on his way out to the suburb where they were to live. “This is what they call ‘downtown,’” said he. “When your mother and I considered locations near we found nothing suitable. So we are out where we can have a few flowers in the yard at least.”
Betty looked with “all her eyes,” as she said. Streams of cars filled the streets. Her father watched the lights carefully and was prepared to get out of the way when a reckless driver shot in front of him, almost shaving a street car. “Hey, you!” exclaimed Dick, but the man could not hear. “Why, if you hadn’t swerved to the right that fellow would have hit us!”
“Yes, Dick. He was either intoxicated, or just reckless. There are many such in the city.”
But in spite of what tired Betty considered several narrow escapes, they successfully reached the suburb desired, where rows of houses, some of brick, some of frame, some of stone, had a bit of yard in front and behind; and on the porch of one there stood a slender and familiar figure.
“Mamma!” cried Amy Lou, wiggling down from between Betty and Doris. But Betty kept a stout hold upon her little sister until the car stopped in front. “I’ll let you girls out here,” said Mr. Lee, “but Dick may come with me to the garage.”
Amy Louise flew to her mother, while the other two girls walked briskly up the short distance from the barberry hedge to the porch. The house was of brick, well-built and attractive. “Why, this is real nice, Mother!” exclaimed Betty, the last to be embraced, but as warmly welcomed. Betty was trying to remember to call her parents Father and Mother, since some one had told her it was more dignified.
They entered a hall of fair size, then a large front room with a big window in it, the piano in the right spot, a fireplace–why, it would be home after all! Familiar rugs and furniture met Betty’s eyes. Of them her last view had been what Betty called “ghastly,” all done up ready to be moved in that horrid truck. But the “horrid truck” had brought them unmarred to their present position. Here were all of their treasures–and each other.
“I don’t believe, after all, Mother,” said she, looking around, “that walls make so, so much difference!”
“Not with our own pictures on them,” replied Mother, understanding. “I wish that all you could have helped me decide where to put things; but if you girls think of any good changes, we shall make them.”
“Did you have a very dreadful time to find a place?” asked Doris.