nd Avenue. Up above them were great open spaces. They had two lots,
which gave them a grassy space beside the drive. The lot being deeper
than usual, they could have a little garden where the fruit-trees did
not shade. There was a tall, gnarled old pear-tree, and they found it
bore excellent fruit. Right by the porch, in a lovely southern exposure,
was a delicious nectarine.

The little girl was deeply interested in Joe's house, as she began to
call it. A door opened from the main hall, and one quite outside from
the flagged path. That would be the patients' entrance, when they began
to come. Joe went up to Yonkers and exhumed some old furniture. There
was a queer, brass-studded, leather-covered sofa, with high roll arms,
and a roll at the back that suggested a pillow. There were two small
spindle-legged tables; some high-backed, oaken chairs, rudely carved,
and almost black with age; and a curious old _escritoire_ that was said
to have come from France with the French grandmother who had landed with
the emigrants at New Rochelle.

His office was plainly appointed, with an oil-cloth on the floor, a row
of shelves for jars of medicines; for even then many doctors compounded
their own prescriptions. There was a plain business-desk, a table, and
some chairs, and a small book-case. All the odd old things were to go in
his sitting-room.

Across one end, he had it filled in with book-shelves. One corner was
for the little girl. And there was to be a special chair for her, so she
could come in and study her lessons, or read or talk to her dear Doctor
Joe.

Mrs. French made a splendid addition to the room in a large Oriental rug
that Doctor Joe valued more highly as the years went on. For then we
were getting bright-hued carpets from French and English looms, and
these dull old things were not in any great favour. Only it was so thick
and soft, the little girl said it was good enough for a bed.

Joe laughed. "I daresay I shall take many a nap on it. You must make me
a nice pillow-cushion, out of some of your bits of silk."

People made real sensible patchwork then, or worked a cover in worsted,
with perhaps a pretty bunch of flowers.

The house had a basement-kitchen at the back, and a dumb-waiter like
Margaret's. Mrs. Underhill thought at first she shouldn't like it. There
was a spacious area, which made Hanny think of Mrs. Dean's in First
Street, where they used to play tea.

It took a long while to get settled, some