“Of course,” said the little girl, “it isn’t so tall; but it’s ’most as long as a whole block of houses in the city. One of the short blocks, I mean. My papa said seven of the crosstown blocks made a mile, and twenty of the short blocks. So this house must be ’most a twentieth of a mile long, Uncle Joe. It seems awful big for me to live in!”
Mr. Stagg had halted at the gate, and now looked down upon Carolyn May with perplexed brow. “Well, we’ve got to see about that first,” he muttered. “There’s Aunty Rose——”
A voice calling, “Chuck! Chuck! Chuck-a-chuck!” came from behind the old house. A few white-feathered fowls that had been in sight scurried wildly away in answer to the summons.
Mr. Stagg, still looking at the little girl, set down the bag and reached for the dog’s leash. The loop of the latter he passed around the gatepost.
“I tell you what it is, Car’lyn May. You’d better meet Aunty Rose first alone. I’ve my fears about this mongrel.”
“Oh, Uncle Joe!” quavered his niece.
“You go ahead and get acquainted with her,” urged Mr. Stagg. “She don’t like dogs. They chase her chickens and run over her flower-beds. Aunty Rose is peculiar, I might say.”
“Oh, Uncle Joe!” repeated the little girl faintly.
“You’ve got to make her like you, if you want to live here,” the hardware dealer concluded firmly; “and that’s all there is to it.”
He gave Carolyn May a little shove up the path, and then stood back and mopped his brow with his handkerchief. Prince strained at the leash and whined, wishing to follow his little mistress.