oh, mercy, I thought that would turn out better. It would, if I had time to develop that noble thought—but you've got to mispronounce hearth or it won't!" cried Rob, bringing her disastrous attempt to a hasty conclusion.
"I could do something better than that this minute, but I won't, because you do so hate to be beaten," said Basil.
"I never know I am," said Rob, and they all shouted, because the statement was quite true.
"Poetry reminds me of the story-telling; are you going to keep it up another winter, Rob? You must, for you've become an institution of Fayre. The children will be heart-broken if you don't," said Frances.
"I don't know; I'm not over-scrupulous, but it never seemed right to me for anyone to earn money unless they have to, and now—only think of it—I have enough! I should hate horribly to keep money from a girl having as hard a time as I have had," said Rob.
"But there is no one else to do this, and so you don't wrong anyone. It would be a shame to stop, really," protested Frances.
"Well, we'll see; this is only May, and there's plenty of time to decide—plenty of time for everything in this new, blessed life of ours!" cried Rob. "Maybe I'll carry it on in Kiku-san's name, and send the proceeds to found a Rescue League for animals in New York like the one in Boston—you'd like that, wouldn't you, my affectionate little white-chrysanthemum-in-Japanese?" she added, catching up their pet and swinging him to her shoulder.
"Time to dress to go to the station, children!" called Mrs. Grey from the dining-room.
"Come in here and see the little grey house in its parlor," Wythie called back. "Aunt Azraella and Cousin Peace, too."
They came at once, and stood on the worn door-sill surveying the low-ceiled room, fresh and cool in its green paper, high, white wainscoting, and white paint, its few fine engravings and soft grey prints on the walls, and the starry dogwood lighting it all.