"Do hurry up, mother," said March, appealingly.
"A young man from New Haven has taken the lease of the farm for three years. He has his mother and sister with him. He was in the law school at Yale until last spring; then his father died, and his sister, a little older than you, Rose, was injured in some accident--I don't know what it was--and now she is very delicate. The doctor says if she can live in this mountain country for a few years, she may recover her health. The brother and mother are perfectly devoted to her. She calls herself a 'Shut-in'--"
"Then she can't come over for Thanksgiving dinner," said Rose, interrupting.
"Not this year, but I hope she may next."
"Did he give up college for his sister's sake?" asked March.
"He gave up the last year of his law course; they could not afford to travel so many years for the benefit of her health, so they came up here. I do pity them; it must be such a change. But, oh, March! how you will enjoy that house! They have been there only a week, yet it looks as if they had lived there always. They have such beautiful framed photographs of places they visited when they were in Europe with their father, and cases of books, and a grand piano--I don't see how they ever got it up the Mountain. The young man and his mother both play, and he plays the violin, too."
The children and Chi were listening open-eyed as Mrs. Blossom went on enthusiastically:--
"It's just like a fairy story, only it's all true. Just two weeks ago, when your father and I drove by there, that long, rambling house looked so bleak and bare and desolate--your father and I always call it the 'House of the Seven Gables,' for there are just seven--and the spruce woods behind it looked fairly black, and the wind drew through the pines by the south door with such an eerie sound, that I shivered. And to-day, what a change! All the shutters were open, and muslin curtains at the windows, and the sun was streaming into the four windows of the great south room that they have made their living-room. There was a roaring big fire in the hall fireplace, and plants--oh, Rose, you should see them! palms and rubber trees and sword ferns,--and lovely rugs, and--I can't begin to tell you about it; you must go and see for yourselves." Mrs. Blossom paused for breath, with a glad light in her eyes.
"It sounds too good to be true," said Rose, "and you look as if you had been to a real party, Martie."
"Well, I have, my dear. Just to see such people and such a house is a party for me."