“It is very nice, but rather small, big enough for us, though,” while her aunt asked:
“Where am I to sleep if I should visit you—there is no spare room for guests?”
“By George! I hadn’t thought of that,” Tom said; then, brightening suddenly, he added, “We’ll put a bed-lounge in the library and turn that into a sleeping-room. Shall we go now?”
“But we haven’t decided what furniture we want,” Rena said, and Tom replied:
“Time enough for that after I show you the city.”
Rena was the first to go down the stairs, which she preferred to the elevator. Behind her came her aunt who turned to Tom and said in a low tone: “You must give up that Quixotic notion not to use Rena’s money, and rent a larger place. According to that will she has a right to a part of Sandy’s fortune, and she must not be buried here!”
“Think so?” Tom answered, good-humoredly, while Mrs. Graham shrugged her shoulders and thought of Reginald Travers and the will.
They were all rather silent, as they drove around the city, seeming to Rena to be going out of it until at last they were in a suburb and stopped before a handsome, modern house, with grounds in front and garden and stable in the rear.
“Who lives here?” Rena asked.
“No one at present. I want you to see it,” Tom said, putting up his arms to lift her out.