“Do you want to board?”
“There are two kinds of life in America,” said Grandma, “boarding-house life and home-life. Boarding-house life vulgarizes, home life ennobles. As long as God gives me breath, I’ll keep house, if I have only three rooms to do it in.”
“But, Grandma, dear, you will have so little to keep house on. Wouldn’t it be better to go to some first-class boarding-house with just a few nice people?”
“Who might be my dearest foes,” said Grandma, tranquilly. “I’ve rubbed shoulders with such people in hotels before now.”
“Grandma, you haven’t any enemies.”
“Anybody that is worth anything has enemies.”
“Well,” said Margaretta, with a sigh, “what are you going to do? You can’t afford to keep house in such style as this. You won’t want to go into a poor neighbourhood.”
“Give me a house and I’ll make the neighbourhood,” said Grandma, decidedly.
“You have already decided on one?” said her granddaughter, suspiciously.
Grandma smiled. “Not altogether decided.”