"Yes; a poor place to take you to, my dear but, as I told you, it was Hobson's choice."
"Then we'll make the best of it and be thankful."
"What a horrid old thing!" remarked Mildred in an undertone, heard only by Aunt Wealthy.
"We'll hope to find the inside an improvement on the out," was the cheerful rejoinder.
"It has need to be, I should say!" cried the girl as they drew near. "Just see! it fronts on two streets and there's not a bit of a space separating it from either; doors open right out on to a sand bank."
"That's what was made by digging the cellar," said Rupert.
"There's a big yard at the side and behind," said Zillah.
"Something green in it, too," added Ada, whose sight was imperfect.
"Nothing but a crop of ugly weeds," said Mildred, ready to cry as memory brought vividly before her the home they had left with its large garden carpeted with green grass, adorned with shrubbery and filled with the bloom of summer flowers.
The June roses must be out now and the woodbine—the air sweet with their delicious perfume—and they who had planted and tended them, so far away in this desolate looking spot.